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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336454">Of Sparrow and Drystan</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissieMoose/pseuds/MissieMoose'>MissieMoose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: Jack Sparrow - Rob Kidd, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom - A. C. Crispin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action, Adventure, Crossdressing, Developing Friendships, Drunken Shenanigans, Eventual Romance, Female/Female/Male polycule, Genderfluid Character, Golden Age of Piracy, Historical Fantasy, Humor, Magic, Major Original Character(s), Mostly Canon Compliant, Multi, POV First Person, Pagan Gods, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Trust Issues, Why is the Rum Gone?, friendships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:54:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>38,464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336454</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissieMoose/pseuds/MissieMoose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When I was nineteen, pirates attacked the ship I was working on. They gave us choice: Join their crew or be sent adrift with those that didn’t. After picking the former, I soon found myself in Shipwreck City and in search of a new crew to join. Instead, I found sixteen-year-old Jack Sparrow who, even back then, was followed by trouble everywhere he went.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elizabeth Swann/Will Turner, Jack Sparrow/Original Female Character(s), Pintel/Ragetti (Pirates of the Caribbean)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Shipwreck City</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello everyone~! Sorry, obligatory start-of-new-story author's note here: This story begins shortly before the Jack Sparrow series written by Robb Kidd and will continue on through to the movies. There will be plenty of moments that aren't in the books, as...I don't actually own the books and e-books I found are nigh unreadable. As such, I have to use the PotC wiki to give me the plot outlines. This will also feature moments of violence, drunkenness, mentions of and encounters with prostitutes, as well as some crude humor among other things.</p><p>But what do you expect? This is a story about pirates told from the perspective of a pirate. And I hope you enjoy it~! I'll be updating it every other week.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>                                                                     </p><p> </p><p>It had been almost two minutes since the group of us five strangers had submerged ourselves beneath the waters of Shipwreck Cove. Glancing over at the others, I found myself still rather surprised that four people had been interested enough to have taken the wager. It was quite a ludicrous one, after all: I bet everyone I could hold my breath longer than them—longer even than five minutes. The only caveat? We had to be underwater.</p><p>But what was even more surprising to me was how varied in age my competitors all were. Two of our number were over the age of forty at <em>least</em>, a third was somewhere in her twenties, and the third was a lad around the same age as me.</p><p>Before three minutes had passed, the eldest and the twenty-something-year-old hoisted themselves to the surface, gasping for breath. I looked to my left and right to see that the remaining two were both struggling. Their cheeks were puffed out and they had their eyes clenched shut in concentration. A bubble would occasionally manage to escape their mouth or nose, further depleting their air supply. What didn’t help was how the sea, which was beginning to grow rough, kept threatening to pull them away from the dock.</p><p>‘The other two will be rushing for the surface before thirty more seconds pass,’ I told myself.</p><p>It was the eldest who gave up first; his gasps for air were loud enough that I could hear them underwater. The lad held on a bit longer and even brought a hand down to pinch his nose shut. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t help but follow the old man soon after.</p><p>But I remained in place, my hands pressed against the bottom of the dock, keeping me submerged. I smirked at the thought of being declared the winner and the money that would come with it; it was an easy win for me, yes, but still a win. My coin purse had been empty for the last four days and I was itching to get myself some proper food—stolen bits of fruit could only get you so far, after all.</p><p>Only when another two minutes had passed did I finally come up out of the water. Sucking in a breath of fresh air, I heaved my shoulders as if I were actually out of breath. Someone grabbed my wrist and helped pull me onto the dock; I ‘breathlessly’ thanked them and leaned back against a piling. After taking some minutes to ‘regain’ my breath, a handsome grin came to my lips and I looked up at the small crowd.</p><p>“Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe that was over five minutes,” I said to them, “and, therefore, I win our little wager.”</p><p>“You cheated!” I looked over as the lad came forward. His cheeks were still quite red from having held his breath as long as he did, and his breathing wasn’t quite back to normal. “You ‘ad t’ ‘ave! Ain’t no one alive who can ‘old their breath <em>that</em> long!” It took a good deal of willpower for me <em>not </em>to burst out laughing; with his wet hair all askew and his clothes clinging to his body, he looked more like a drowned rat than anything.</p><p>“Well, I can ensure you that I am a member of the living,” I replied, “and that, on my word, I did <em>not </em>cheat.”</p><p>“How could he possibly cheat, anyway?” the twenty-something-year-old questioned, holding onto her waist as she stood upright. Her breath had mostly been regained, but her cheeks were still a bit pink. “We were all underwater with him—as per the rules, none o’ us poked our heads above the surface.”</p><p>The oldest of our group, who had donned a faded black coat, shook her head. “Just give the lad ‘is winnings an’ stop complainin’,” she scolded as I stood up. “It doesn’t help ye t’ be a sore loser.” She fished around in her pocket before producing a couple of coins, which she then handed off to me.</p><p>“Thank you very much, my lady,” I told her, happily taking the coins—doubloons, as a matter of fact. Of the group, she had been the one who disbelieved my claim the most and, as such, confidently placed quite the price on me losing. But her loss was my win; I might be able to afford a room at an inn for a few nights now.</p><p>The others also handed me a few coins each (begrudgingly, in the case of the sour young man) and I thanked them, too. It was just as bad to be a rude winner as a sore loser, after all. The winnings from them didn’t even come close to the doubloons, but they would still help me buy food at the very least.</p><p>With my winnings now in hand, I went over to the small pile of cloth and leather I had tucked against a piling. From inside a hidden pocket of my vest, I pulled out my coin purse; the fabric was well worn and light as a feather. I frowned. I’d need to get a new one in the near future if I didn’t want to risk losing my precious money. Sliding the coins into the small bag, I cinched it shut and tucked it back into its pocket.</p><p>Turning around, I could see the retreating backs of my opponents; they each headed down a different dock or up one of the crooked stairways into Shipwreck City. With no one within earshot of me anymore, I allowed myself a quiet, victorious laugh and shook my head.</p><p>Despite still being soaking wet, I pulled my vest on, as well as my boots and baldric. Last of all, I put my belt on, fastening it around the top of my hips rather than the center of my waist. I also arranged my vest a bit so that there was some extra fabric gathered above the belt.</p><p>Once again fully dressed, I began to make my way along the dock and towards one of the staircases that would take me into Shipwreck City. As I walked, salt water dripped down from my shirt and trousers as if I had just pulled myself out of the ocean only a few seconds ago, but by the time I had stepped through one of the gates, I was completely dry.</p><p>It was only my fourth day in the city and I was still finding it to be quite the awe-inspiring place. The city was split into two ‘stacks’ that, as the city’s name implied, were built out of wrecked ships—a thousand of years’ worth of them—that had been piled atop a small island in the crater of a dead volcano.</p><p>Being made of stacked-up ships and ship sections meant the city was interesting to navigate. Streets nearer to the outside of the stacks were more often location on the top deck whereas streets towards the centers were covered, as they were below deck. Completely even walkways were hard to find—most of those were at the very top of the two stacks, where the more important pirates resided and higher-class establishments were located. As I was neither important nor high-class (well, <em>here </em>I wasn’t), I decided to make for the middle section of the northern stack.</p><p>I had been recommended a tavern in that section of the city by a handful of people. It was called the Saucy Siren; apparently it served some fairly decent food, both in price and taste. However, as its name implied, the tavern’s main claim to fame was its barmaids—or, as they were unpredictably called by the patrons, sirens. Not only were they gorgeous, I had been told, but they could sing like angels. Whether the men who had told me this meant actual singing or not was up for debate, however. I had no intention of seeking pleasurable company that night, but it would be nice to have an aesthetically pleasing view while I ate.</p><p>‘I don’t think they would appreciate my lack of equipment, either,’ I thought, slipping my way around a group of men carrying what looked like a solid gold statuette of a satyr. Tempted as I was to turn around and get a better look at it, I decided against it—I needed to stay focused. It was all too easy for me to get sidetracked in this new city and that was exactly what I <em>didn’t </em>want to do.</p><p>While I continued to steadily make my way upwards, I was certain to keep a weather eye out for any children as they were notorious for being able to pickpocket someone dry within minutes of their arrival. Since it was a pirate haven, Shipwreck City was home to dozens and dozens of families with children of all ages. An odd thing to think about, yes, but contrary to puritanically popular belief, pirates could be just as good—if not better—parents than non-pirates.</p><p>We aren’t entirely lawless vagabonds, after all. We have a code we live our lives by—a code written down by the pirates, Morgan and Bartholomew. At this point in time, though, I was still quite new to piracy; I had been one for less than a month, in fact.</p><p>Originally, I had been a topman (one of the riggers who tended to the sails) aboard the merchant ship, <em>Wanderlust</em>, but after getting attacked off the coast of la Florida, I found myself faced with the option of either joining the pirate crew or being sent adrift in a long boat.</p><p>Not wanting to risk the chance of having a long, slow, and painful death, I picked the former.</p><p>And now, here I was, in this piratical safe haven. I was still quite clueless as to how to go about things, given that the captain who had taken me and four others onto his crew had—quite unceremoniously—kicked us off his ship the moment we docked, as he didn’t want to pay us. In his words, sparing our lives and bringing us here should have been payment enough. We just wished that he would have let us grab our sea chests or our sea bags before banishing us.</p><p>I felt the slightest of tugs on my vest and reached down in time to grab the wrist of a small urchin—she couldn’t have been more than ten years old. With her big, brown eyes and golden curls, she reminded me a great deal of my youngest sister, Cornelia. And the little thing would have managed to talk her way out of getting in trouble due to her cuteness if it hadn’t been for the fact that I was used to such acts thanks to the aforementioned sister.</p><p>“Stealing from empty pockets won’t get you any tasty sweets,” I told her, my brow raised. “Now run along and look for pockets that actually have things <em>in </em>them.” Letting go of her wrist, I watched as she darted off into the crowd, giggling like the mischief maker she was.</p><p>‘Glad I keep my coins in a hidden pocket,’ I thought, looking back at the path ahead.</p><p>Since it was almost suppertime, the streets were a bit busy as the city’s residents hurried to buy last minute meal ingredients or made their way to one of the many, <em>many </em>taverns. It was also the perfect time for little pickpockets to be making their way around the place, slipping their small hands into pockets or deftly untying coin purses from belts.</p><p>I quickened my pace; I wanted to reach the Saucy Siren before it became too full <em>and </em>I wanted to avoid more attempted pickpocketing attempts made on me. The only problem was…I didn’t exactly know <em>where</em> the Saucy Siren was. Just that it was in the middle portion of the northern stack.</p><p>Knowing I had to ask for directions, I started glancing around for someone who looked like they <em>wouldn’t </em>try to get me to pay for the bit of information. After a few moments, I spotted a lad around my age—maybe <em>slightly</em> older—buying a loaf of bread from a vendor. Like me, he had a green bandana wrapped around his head, though his held back dark hair that had dozens of small braids and beads scattered throughout it.</p><p>Once he was done handing over his coin, I approached him. “Excuse me, mate, but do you happen to know where I could find the Saucy Siren?” I asked. As I spoke, I had done my best to <em>not</em> sound too high-class. I had quickly come to learn that speaking clearly and enunciating every word was actually a bit frowned upon in this place.</p><p>“Hm?” He turned around and I saw that, like most sailors here, his lower eyelids were heavily lined with kohl. “The Saucy Siren? Oh, aye, she’s just up three floors,” he told me, gesturing at a spot above us. “That one there, actually. I suggest avoiding the wine and ale—they water those down. But the rum and beer are good.”</p><p>As I looked up, I could just barely see a sign sticking out over one of the higher up and uncovered streets. It had a mermaid carved into it, along with the words ‘Saucy Siren’ painted in bright yellow letters. “Thanks, mate,” I said, looking back down only to frown.</p><p>In the few seconds I had turned my attention away from him, the lad had disappeared.</p><p>“Huh…” was all I could manage to say. Impressed by the lad’s speed, I lightly shook my head and continued on my way towards the tavern.</p><p> </p><p>The Saucy Siren, as it turned out, lived up quite well to the things I had heard about it. The food was good (downright delicious if you hadn’t eaten anything but a banana and two oranges for three days), the drink was good (I avoided the wine and ale as recommended), and the barmaids were <em>gorgeous</em> with the voices to match. But they weren’t <em>just</em> gorgeous: They were all quite nice and pleasant to chat with, too.</p><p>There had been one in particular named Mary who had been very sweet and who sat down to chat with me about the city, the best spots to look for work, and the best places to <em>avoid</em>. She even told me that she knew of three different ships currently looking to hire on new crew members: the <em>Misty Lady, </em>the <em>Raven’s Wing</em>, and the <em>Singin’ Squid</em>. Of the latter ships, I didn’t get to learn much, but Mary told me that the <em>Misty Lady </em>was captained by a man named Edward Teague. He was held in high respect among pirates due to his position as both a pirate lord and the Keeper of the Code. At the time, I didn’t even know there were pirate <em>lords</em>, though the position of Keeper of the Code made sense to me, since even pirates needed some form of judge.</p><p>After I had my meal, I had to force myself to leave the tavern, lest I ended up drinking too much and spending all my coin. But this left me with a new problem: Finding a place to sleep. The first night I was here, I was able to barter a room in exchange for manual labor in the form of hauling crates of fruits and vegetables. The second night, I had managed to find a relatively secluded spot in an alleyway where I was able to get a few hours of fitful sleep.</p><p>But the last two nights had been spent on the beaches. One of them had some lovely little tide pools, but I knew better than to stray near those once night fell. Other than the tide pools, however, there wasn’t much in the way of protection from the elements. Being that I could feel a storm coming—it would be here by midnight—I wanted to find some sort of <em>proper </em>shelter.</p><p>As much as I loved water and the ocean, rain was something I did <em>not </em>love unless I was inside. It meant I would get stuck being soaking wet, uncomfortable, and cold for quite some time—not an enjoyable experience. Knowing I would probably have to break down and stay the night at an inn, I ducked into an alley, made sure I was completely alone, and pulled out my coin purse to do a quick count of what I had left.</p><p>‘Seven shillings and two doubloons. If I wanted a first-rate room, there go the doubloons. But I’d settle for a hammock in some hostel just as well and that’d be less than four shillings.’ Sliding the coins back into the purse and tucking it away, I scrunched my nose up slightly. ‘Not that there are hostels around here. Just inns, brothels, and homes. Maybe I should have taken up the offer one of those sirens…’</p><p>Stepping out of the alley, I started to aimlessly walk down the street; now that suppertime had come and gone, the city felt quite a bit emptier. No more children ran about and the shops and vendors had closed up. Those who were left ambling about were either on their way to an establishment, making their way back down to the docks, or looking for trouble.</p><p>“And I doubt any of them can tell that a storm’s blowing in,” I mumbled to myself. The wind had yet to pick up, but I had been feeling the ocean’s temperament changing since that morning. I looked up at the sky through a hole in a hull; the sun was beginning to set and the western horizon was partly obscured by clouds. “Ah, so it’s blowing in from the west…Hopefully it won’t be too bad.” I knew the volcanic shell of the cove would protect the city from the worst of the winds, but some blustery gusts would still sneak their way in.</p><p>I most definitely did <em>not </em>want to be at the top of the stacks during one of those gusts. Despite knowing the city was put together well (at least, I <em>hoped </em>it was, considering how long it had been around), I couldn’t help but picture the topmost ships swaying back and forth before breaking apart.</p><p>“’Im right there! That’s the one!” I frowned as I heard the voice. “That’s the cheater!”</p><p>Turning around, I could see the sour lad from earlier pointing at me. On his left was a larger and older man who bore a great resemblance to him; either his brother or a cousin. My eyes widened as they started to rush towards me.</p><p>“Shit,” I muttered before turning and starting to run away.</p><p>…At least, I <em>wish </em>that’s how my plan had went.</p><p>What <em>actually </em>happened was, after cursing, I turned around in time to see a large fist coming towards me. With absolutely no time to react, the fist slammed into the side of my face with such force that I was thrown to the ground, where I hit my head hard enough (or, perhaps, it was a combination of getting sucker-punched and hitting my head) that I blacked out.</p><p>I <em>really</em> should have spent the night at the Siren.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Not-So-Graceful Escape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When I woke up, it was to a dull throb in the back of my skull, an ache on the right side of my face, the sound of howling wind, and my wrists bound behind my back. I kept my eyes clenched shut while I attempted to will away the pain in my head while also staying as still as possible. After a few moments, the throbbing died down to a bearable level and I wriggled my hands only to find that it wasn’t rope that bound them, but iron cuffs.</p>
<p>At first, I couldn’t remember what in the world had happened, but when I started to hear voices, the fog on my memory began clearing away.</p>
<p>“Yeh sure ‘e’ll fetch a good price on the auction block?”</p>
<p>“’Course he will. He’s a young lad, fairly handsome. An’ from what your boy said, he’s a fairly good talker, too. Either some old, pent up biddy will buy him to be her toy for a few days or one o’ the ship captains will buy him an’ make him work off his debt.”</p>
<p>‘Ahh,’ I thought, my nose scrunching up. ‘That arse from earlier decided to go off and whine to his father, who, in turn, decided to hunt me down. If I see him again, I’m going to give him something to <em>really </em>complain about…’</p>
<p>“Did yeh at least search ‘im before yeh threw ‘im in irons?”</p>
<p>“Aye. The whelp didn’t have much. The priciest thing on him was his sword. Pretty nice cutlass. I’m almost tempted t’ keep it for meself instead of selling it.”</p>
<p>My eyes shot open, though I didn’t see very much—just the wood of the wall and the floor. Faint shadows were projected onto the wall, telling me that there wasn’t much light in the area. Closing my eyes and rolling over onto my back, I felt new pain quickly growing in my arms, partially distracting me from the one in my head.</p>
<p>The voices continued talking and, when I partly opened one eye, I could see that the owners of the voices weren’t within my sight. Crates stacked atop one another, barrels, and bags of something, however, <em>were </em>in my view, letting me know that it was probably safe for me move about.</p>
<p>I managed to push myself up into a sitting position; for a few seconds, the world swam before my eyes and the throbbing in my brain became almost unbearable for a few seconds. I clenched my eyes shut once more, silently cursing to myself.</p>
<p>When it died away, I opened my eyes again and could see the quavering silhouettes of two men sitting at a table on the wall across from me. Both looked to be bigger than me—and I knew that at least <em>one </em>of them was—but it was hard to tell if it was just an illusion of the shadows. What made me thankful, though, was that it seemed to be just those two men in the room with me.</p>
<p>‘Not much chain on these shackles,’ I thought, slowly stretching my arms out to gauge how long the chain was. ‘I might be able to wiggle it beneath me, but it’s going to hurt one way or another.’</p>
<p>When I started to lean backwards, I could feel parts of my spine popping—whether it was popping into or out of place was yet to be determined. I started to bring my arms forward, having to move them in a sort of sawing motion in order to get the chain under my arse. My nose scrunched up as my knuckles scraped against the wooden floor; I could feel the skin tearing on some of them.</p>
<p>“There we go,” I breathed once I got the chain out from beneath me. A quick inspection of my knuckles showed that five of them were now bleeding; three on my left and four on my right. Ignoring them for now, I took hold of the chain and crawled forward.</p>
<p>Peeking around the edge of one of the crates, I saw the two men sitting at a table, a lantern between them as they played cards. Once in a while, the ship would shudder as a particularly strong gust of wind blew past, but they were left unbothered. Neither was looking in my direction, which was a bit fortuitous, as I’m sure I wasn’t being the stealthiest of persons at the moment. But at the moment, my mind was fixed on two things: Getting my sword back and getting out of there.</p>
<p>Most people wouldn’t put so much worry into retrieving a sword, especially when they were so easy to get in a place like Shipwreck City. But that sword was special to me, as it once belonged to my late uncle. He had taught me everything I knew about sailing and navigating (at least, everything I knew at <em>that </em>point in my life). He was also the one who suggested I wear dark trousers and told me that I would need to start binding my breasts down if I didn’t want to be found out as a woman.</p>
<p>From where I was crouched, I could see the sword hanging on the wall by a door. It was still attached to my baldric, which was even better. What was <em>not </em>better was that the blokes were between me and my way out <em>and </em>I had no weapon.</p>
<p>The sensible thing to do would be to wait until the two fell asleep and sneak my way out, hoping to find the key to these blasted shackles along the way. A less sensible option would be trying to sneak my way around the two of them, grab my sword, and then run like hell the moment I opened the door. The most senseless idea would be trying to find something heavy enough that I could use to try to knock them both out.</p>
<p>I would like to say that, back then, I was too smart to consider option three even for more than a few seconds.</p>
<p>However, I was not.</p>
<p>Crawling away from the edge of the crate, I looked around the area with a more discerning eye. The lack of light made it hard to see anything aside from silhouettes, but as I carefully stood up, I could see atop the barrels and crates. Sadly, while they did have a few things atop them—some rags, an empty lantern, a tricorne, et cetera—there was nothing that could be of use to me. Well, except the hat. If I escaped out into the storm, it would help keep my head dry…but I didn’t want to risk the chance of getting lice. I left it in place and turned away.</p>
<p>That’s when I saw them: The handles of spades sticking out from one of the barrels. At least, I <em>hoped </em>they were handles to spades. They could have been shovels, brooms, or even just short, wooden poles for all I knew. In order to get close enough to get a good look at them, however, I had to crouch down so that my head wouldn’t poke out and get seen from behind the shorter stack of crates. Peeking down into the barrel, I couldn’t see much, so I cautious stuck my head down into it, my fingers following along one of the wooden shafts. I soon touched cool metal shaped into a rectangle.</p>
<p>“Thank gods,” I whispered, grabbing one of the spades. I slowly lifted the tool from the barrel, tensing up every time the blade scraped against another blade. My captors, though, didn’t hear the subtle sounds over the noises of the storm and their own conversation.</p>
<p>Breathing a sigh of relief once I got the spade out of the barrel, I then glanced over the top of the crates. The pair was still playing cards and drinking from their tankards.</p>
<p>‘I’m about the same height as them,’ I thought. ‘I might actually be slightly taller than one of them. Hard to tell when they’re sitting…’ Getting a good grip on the handle, I let out an audible groan and, feigning having just woke up, grumbled out, “Ugh…feels like I fell off a topgallant…”</p>
<p>“Sounds like the whelp’s woke up,” one of the men grunted.</p>
<p>“Eh, ignore him. There’s not much he can do other than blabber on.”</p>
<p>“Where the hell am I?” I continued, making my voice sound more irritated. “Bloody hell, who’s the cur who put me in shackles?!” To make it sound like I was starting to struggle against my bonds, I started to shake and pull at the chain while also kicking my foot against a crate, shifting it slightly.</p>
<p>One of the men groaned. “Ugh, ‘e’s a struggler…” I poked my head around the crate just in time to see the larger of the two men throw his cards down on the table and scoot his chair back. “I’m going t’ shut ‘im up with a kick t’ the ‘ead.”</p>
<p>“I hear you, your louts! Let me go this instant!” Another kick to the crate.</p>
<p>“Don’t kick him too hard—if he gets brain damage, he’ll be worth less on the auction block.”</p>
<p>“I won’t, I won’t…”</p>
<p>I continued to shake the shackles and kick at the crates while grunting as if I were truly struggling. All the while, I kept my eye on the man’s shadow; as he got closer, it got smaller and smaller. Getting into position, I readied myself.</p>
<p>“Alright, whelp, time t’ shut yeh up again,” the man grumbled. He came around the corner while saying, “Don’t worry. It’ll only ‘urt for a moment.”</p>
<p>A dull, metallic ‘thud’ filled the air as I swung the spade with a good deal of force. The flat of the blade slammed into his face with enough strength that he stumbled sideways before crashing through one of the stacks of crates. He laid on the ground, unmoving, with blood beginning to trickle down from his lip.</p>
<p>Looking up, I saw the second man staring straight at me in shock. I smiled innocently before hopping over the first man and bolting for the door. But he recovered from his shock in time to shove the table forward into my path. With no time to change my path, I swore and fell forward onto the tabletop. Being that it was so small, I ended up flipping it over and landing on my back, the table atop me. The lantern and tankards had gone flying; thankfully, the lantern had no oil, so when it hit the ground, the candle merely went out.</p>
<p>My body ached from the fall, but I both pushed past the pain and shoved the table off of myself. A good thing I did, too, because it let me see the man drawing his sword. Some sort of noise left my throat and I raised the spade in time to block the oncoming blow with it. Two more blows I was also able to block, but it was tough, given my current whereabouts on the floor.</p>
<p>The second the man hesitated, I took my opportunity. Kicking my leg out, I swept his feet out from below him and he swore, landing hard on his back. I lunged forward and, using my knees to pin his arms to the floor, wrapped my hands around his throat. I had no intention of killing him—I just needed him to fall unconscious long enough for me to grab my sword and get out of there. He was making it hard, though, with his thrashing about and trying to knock me off of him.</p>
<p>Finally, his movements grew weaker and weaker. His limbs went limps and his eyes fell shut. Able to still feel his chest rising and fall below me, I held on for a few extra seconds just for good measure. Then, jumping to my feet, I pulled my baldric from the hook and threw open the door. To my luck, it led into a larger, emptier room. Maybe some sort of storefront? I couldn’t tell, nor did I want to be able to tell.</p>
<p>While hurrying towards the door, I undid the buckle on the belt; I knew I couldn’t put it on as is thanks to the shackles. Reaching the door, I shoved the bar out of its position just in time to hear cursing from the back room.</p>
<p>‘Up already? A bit faster than I anticipated,’ I thought, darting outside. It wasn’t terribly dark thanks to the dozens of ship’s lanterns that lit the passageway, but it was dark enough that I knew I had to be careful where I stepped. “Left or right, left or right, left or—”</p>
<p>“Get back here you mangey headed whelp!”</p>
<p>“Left!” Except, for some reason, I went right instead.</p>
<p>Buckling a baldric into place while running was hard enough, but having to also thread it between my arms while being unable to move them more than a foot and a half apart was damn near impossible. It certainly didn’t help that I could hear my captor chasing after me, shouting obscenities and threatening to feed my guts to the sharks. Somehow, though, I managed to get my baldric into place.</p>
<p>‘He’s going to wake the whole city if he keeps that up,’ I thought, seeing a crossroad coming up. I was just about to turn left when there was a loud boom from behind me and the lantern nearest to me shattered when a lead ball shot through it. Cursing aloud, I once more went right.</p>
<p>Ahead of me in this new passage, the decks opened up, revealing the stormy sky as well as a bunch of rigging billowing in the wind. I was surprised; this deck had a mast sticking out of it, complete with raised sails. From its position in the center of the ship, I could tell it was a mainmast, yet it stood short due to having the top third of it sawn away.</p>
<p>It also told me that I was in the lower sections of the northern stack; at least, I think I was. I remembered being able to see set sails in this general area from the docks.</p>
<p>Glancing over my shoulder, I saw my pursuer rounding the corner. He tried to take aim at me with his pistol, but before he could take the shot, I was scurrying up the ratlines.</p>
<p>“Get back here!” he shouted as I climbed.</p>
<p>“Sorry, mate, I don’t want to die today,” I called back. Thankfully, being in the rigging was practically second nature to me by that point. Though, it would have been a little less precarious had I <em>not </em>been wearing my boots. With bare feet, I could use my toes to help keep my balance atop the slippery wooden yardarms.</p>
<p>But right now, that didn’t matter to me. What mattered was getting away from this man and his gun. Reaching the top of the first set of ratlines, I swore; the top was always the most precarious part of the mast, as you had to lean backwards—sometimes almost upside down—in order to climb over it. Doing such with bound wrists was both difficult and frightening, to say the least.</p>
<p>I conquered the task, however, and scrambled atop the—well, the top. Peeking over the edge, I found the man nearly halfway up; he pointed his gun at me and I hopped back just in time to avoid getting shot. Turning, I started to clamor out onto the yard; I wobbled quite a bit, as I was unable to stick my arms out for balance.</p>
<p>Though heights had never bothered me, when I looked down, I found myself feeling a bit nervous. There was a sheer, two-hundred-foot drop into the ocean below. Quite a bit higher than what I was used to seeing when up in the rigging.</p>
<p>“Ooh, this was a stupid idea,” I muttered. I wasn’t even at the end of the yard—I was barely halfway across!</p>
<p>The spar got jostled and I swore, struggling to keep my balance. Looking over my shoulder, I saw my pursuer. He had his arms thrown out, helping him keep balance; he still held his gun in his hand. Or maybe it was a spare, as he had already used up his shot? I didn’t know. A careful turn and a quick glance down showed me that <em>he </em>had removed his boots. however.</p>
<p>‘He must’ve been a topman at one point, too,’ I thought with a frown.</p>
<p>“You ain’t got anywhere t’ go, whelp,” he smirked, pointing his gun at me once he got his balance. “Now, you’re goin’ t’ be a good lad an’ come back with me. An’ then, come the day after t’morrow, you’ll fetch me an’ Tim a pretty penny at the auction block.”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I don’t much care for auctions!” I shouted over the wind. Of all times for there to <em>not </em>be any loose rigging ropes whipping about…“Never have, I’m afraid!” I carefully took a few steps to the side, peeking down once more. My heart was racing in my chest; it almost felt like it was going to burst out from my ribs.</p>
<p>“Too bad, whelp. It’s either the auction block or death for ye,” he shouted back. He pulled back the hammer on his pistol.</p>
<p>“I prefer option number three, myself!” I watched as a confused expression came to his face. “I’m going for a swim!” Before he could react, I turned and ran forward along the spar. Reaching the end, I sprung off it as if I were diving from the railing of a ship.</p>
<p>Above me, I could hear the man shouting, but <em>what </em>he was saying was lost to the wind. Not that I cared at the moment. I was more focused on praying to whatever gods that would hear me to not let me die.</p>
<p>Diving from just fifty feet up could be deadly enough—but <em>two hundred</em> feet?</p>
<p>Just when I thought I had been falling for too long, that I had actually jumped into an endless void, I felt my body suddenly become enveloped by the cool, angry waters of the ocean.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Jack Sparrow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Come on…get off…”</p><p>I swore under my breath as I tried to slide my hand through the cuff of the shackles. It was just a <em>touch </em>too tight, however, and I only ended up chafing my skin, leaving it raw and sore. Exhaling a defeated sigh, I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the wall with a small ‘thud’.</p><p>It was near noon the day after my escape. The storm had blown itself out by morning, leaving clear, blue skies in its wake. Not that I could see said skies, as I was currently hiding away in the back of an alley behind a stack of barrels. After plummeting into the ocean and coming back ashore, I had hunkered down in the first somewhat-safe area I could find.</p><p>“How am I going to get these things off?” I mumbled a few moments later, looking back down at my hands.</p><p>“Lost the key have you?”</p><p>Swearing and jumping, I looked up only to find the lad who had given me directions yesterday. He was sitting atop the stack of barrels, an apple in hand. Before I could reply to him, however, someone started shouting; his eyes widened and he slid off of the barrels, practically throwing himself against the wall beside me.</p><p>“Sounds like someone’s fairly upset with you,” I quietly commented, my brow raised in amusement.</p><p>He shrugged, a roguish grin on his lips. “Not sure why. I only lifted an apple from him,” he replied. “…And maybe his coin purse.” Breathing on the apple’s skin, he rubbed it against the rough material of his vest before taking a bite. He then pointed at the shackles on my wrist. “How’d you end up in those? Same way you got that bruised cheek, I would imagine.”</p><p>The shouting was getting closer, so I lowered my voice even more. “Lad got jealous I beat him in a contest, so he went and got his brothers and dad to try and get revenge on me. His dad sucker-punched me and down I went. When I woke up, I was in a storage room and these beauties were around my wrists.” I shook my head. “They were going to put me up on some auction block.”</p><p>At that, he chuckled, his brow rising. “‘<em>Some’</em> auction block?” he repeated, his amusement evident in his voice, despite how quietly he spoke. “I take it you must be new t’ Shipwreck City, then.”</p><p>“Aye. This is my fifth day here.” We both fell quiet as the shouting man came to the opening of the alley. His shadow was long as it stretched across the wooden floor, though it started to get shorter as he came walking towards us. The lad curled up into a smaller ball against the wall.</p><p>I leaned forward ever so slightly, managing to get a peek at the man. He was in his thirties and was neither lean nor fat. But he looked mean and he had both a sword and pistol at the ready. Glancing back at the lad, I decided I’d help him since he had helped me the previous day.</p><p>Scooting forward a bit, I looked up at the man with a cheeky smile. “’Ey, mate, you don’t happen to have a spare key on you, do you?” I asked him, making sure my shackled hands were in view. “I’m in a bit of a pickle, as you can see.”</p><p>He jumped and aimed his gun at me; I had taken him by surprise. After realizing I wasn’t his target, he rolled his eyes and turned his back on me before walking away.</p><p>“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then,” I called after him. I pushed myself backwards so that I was against the wall once more.</p><p>“Thanks for that, mate,” the lad said, a bit of a surprised look on his face.</p><p>I shrugged. “You helped me yesterday, so it’s only fair.”</p><p>Now he looked confused. “I did?”</p><p>“Aye. You told me how to get to the Saucy Siren.”</p><p>His eyes widened slightly and he laughed. “<em>That’s </em>why you look familiar! An’ here I thought I had maybe stolen from you recently.”</p><p>I snorted. “No, and even if you had, you would have only gotten pocket lint,” I told him. “The captain who brought me and four others here didn’t let us grab our seabags before booting us off his ship.”</p><p>At that, his brow rose slightly. “I take it, then, that you an’ those four others were once part of a merchant crew?” I nodded. “Did you jump ship or were you given a choice when overrun?”</p><p>“The latter.”</p><p>“Makes sense. Have you tried going back t’ the ship, sneaking aboard, and stealing the bag back?”</p><p>I paused for a moment. Truthfully, that <em>wasn’t </em>something I had thought about doing. My pause must’ve been enough of an answer for him, because he chuckled.</p><p>“Something to think about before she sets sail again, mate,” he told me. “Though, that’s only <em>if </em>you had stuff o’ value in the bag. If it was just clothes, let it be. Now, if you were to happen upon your ex-crewmate’s seabags an’ know that <em>they </em>have something of worth in theirs…” He grinned mischievously.</p><p>“Well, as much as I’d like to attempt to steal my bag back, I can’t,” I replied. “At least, not while I’m wearing these.” I lifted my hands, reminding him that I was still shackled.</p><p>He took a bite from his apple, a contemplative expression on his face. “How tight o’ a fit are they?” he asked, having shoved the bit of apple into his cheek, making it stick out like a squirrel’s.</p><p>“Fairly snug.” I pulled the cuff up to the base of my hand, showing him how the fit was <em>just </em>tight enough to prevent me from pulling my hand free. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get them off without a key.”</p><p>“I’ve an idea. Stay here.” He stood up and, before I could say anything, he carefully left the alley.</p><p>‘He’s probably not coming back,’ I thought, a small frown coming to my lips as I watched him walk off. ‘He’s got no reason to help me, after all.’ Looking down at my wrists, I let out a heavy sigh. ‘I wonder if there’s a way I could break them off without hurting myself? …Actually, I highly doubt that.’</p><p>I thought I would try squeezing my hand through one last time before giving up, but I would do it differently. Instead of holding the cuff with the opposite hand, I put my hand between my feet and, using the soles of my boots, pushed down on the metal while pulling my arm.</p><p>“You’re only going t’ hurt yourself if you keep doing that.” I was more than a little surprised to see that the lad had returned—and he was holding an unlit oil lantern. He crouched down in front of me and, unscrewing the wick from the base, grabbed the chain of the shackles. “This should help a great deal,” he said as he carefully poured the oil over my wrists and hands.</p><p>A quiet hiss of pain left my mouth; the oil made my raw skin start stinging. I almost asked what kind of oil it was, but quickly thought better of it. Instead, I twisted the cuffs back and forth a few times, making sure the oil got beneath them. Then, squeezing my fingers together, I started trying to pull the cuff off once more.</p><p>At first, it didn’t seem like the oil was helping. But then, I felt the metal slipping further and further up my hand until, finally, the cuff popped off.</p><p>“Aha, I <em>knew </em>the oil would work,” the lad grinned, showing that his right canine tooth was capped in gold.</p><p>I breathed a sigh of relief as I freed my other hand and let the shackles fall to the ground with a clatter. “Thanks, mate,” I said, grinning as well. “You’ve no idea how much I appreciate this.” Not wanting to stain my vest just yet, I wiped my hands on my trousers; I wasn’t able to get all of the oil off, but it was good enough.</p><p>“I have a semblance o’ an idea,” he chuckled, watching me stand. He then held out his hand. “The name’s Jack Sparrow, by the by.”</p><p>Taking his hand, I gave it a small shake. “Emil Drystan.” The name still felt a bit odd to say, as it wasn’t my real name—well, that’s a partial lie. ‘Emil’ was part of my real forename and had been my nickname throughout my life, but ‘Drystan’ had been my uncle’s name. In a mixture of wanting to honor him and <em>not </em>wanting to sully my family’s name, I had adopted it as my surname.</p><p>“Drystan, eh?” Jack repeated, amused. “Now that’s a name I’ve not heard before.”</p><p>I shrugged. “I’m Welsh.” It was then I noticed that I stood a good five inches taller than him, making me wonder if I had had a growth spurt over the last three months or if he was just short.</p><p>He nodded in understanding. “Well, Drystan, what say you to going to see about getting that seabag o’ yours back?” he then questioned. There was mischief in his eyes and voice, which, if I hadn’t already been leery about his offer, would have left me such.</p><p>“And just what are you wanting in return for helping me get my seabag back?” I questioned, a bit of caution in my voice.</p><p>He wore a feigned look of offense. “Now why would you go thinkin’ I want something in return, hm? Can’t a bloke help another bloke out?”</p><p>“A bloke <em>can </em>help another bloke out,” I began, “but when bloke number one happens to come from a city of pirates and thieves, bloke number two knows that there’s almost always a requirement to receiving bloke number one’s assistance.”</p><p>Jack seemed almost impressed by my reply. “Ah, I see the wool’s not easily pulled over your eyes,” he said. “Alright, I confess: It is my intent to help you and in return, gain <em>your </em>help in a little venture that I may or may not be scheming up.”</p><p>“And what sort of venture would that be?”</p><p>“One that involves passage t’ Tortuga and possibly acquiring myself—er, <em>ourselves—</em>a ship.”</p><p>At that, my brow rose. Ships required more than just two people to man them, after all. Though, I suppose a dinghy could be crewed by just two people with relative ease. But acquiring even a dinghy at our age was damn near impossible, whether it was through illegal means or not. And then there was the fact that he hadn’t mentioned <em>joining </em>a crew in order to reach Tortuga…</p><p>“I would assume that the passage to Tortuga would involve us stowing away in the bottom of some ship, aye?” I questioned.</p><p>“Perhaps.”</p><p>I frowned slightly. It was hard enough for me to hide certain…<em>things</em> while being a part of a ship’s crew, but being stowed away would make it impossible to keep said <em>things </em>hidden. “Why not buy passage? You just stole someone’s coin purse, after all.”</p><p>He smirked and, holding up a finger, wiggled it back and forth at me. “That money is going to be used to buy supplies,” he told me. His smirk faded slightly and he glanced away as if he had just remembered something. “At least, if there’s enough coin in there, it’ll be for supplies.”</p><p>I crossed my arms over my chest; I could tell that Jack was beginning to notice my skepticism. “Then why not barter passage? Do a bit of work in exchange for transport…”</p><p>He cleared his throat. “Truth be told, I’m only sixteen and too young for most o’ the crews around here to hire me or let me work in exchange for passage. Which isn’t the least bit fair, considerin’ I was born and raised on a ship, so I can work just as well as any o’ them.” He huffed out a sigh. “And I can’t lie about who I am, either, because most o’ the captains here know my dad and—What? Why’d your eyes get so big all o’ a sudden?”</p><p>“You’re only sixteen?” I questioned. Thanks to the stubble along his jaw, I thought he was older than me. Not to mention, I had been working on ships since I was fifteen; hearing that the pirates here had an age limit for how old you had to be was something I wasn’t expecting to hear.</p><p>“Aye, I am,” he replied, voice a bit cautious. “Why? How old are you?” His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked up at me.</p><p>“Nineteen in two months’ time.” I watched his eyes lit up and another grin come to his face.</p><p>“Well, that’s just splendid! <em>You</em> can barter passage t’ Tortuga while I stowaway and keep our belongings nice and safe, aye?” He wore a hopeful expression, with his eyes wide and a smile on his lips.</p><p>Part of me said to decline this offer; I could always get a new seabag. At the same time, however, another part was reminding me how my current seabag contained navigational instruments given to me by my uncle—<em>nice </em>instruments, at that—as well as my journal and writing kit. Not only that, but…</p><p>Well, I didn’t really have anything better to do, now did I?</p><p>“Alright. You help me get my seabag back and I’ll help with your little venture,” I said. “But on one condition.”</p><p>His brow rose slightly and his smile faltered ever so slightly. “An’ what would that be?”</p><p>“You have to teach me about the Code and how to be a proper pirate.” I held my hand out, showing that I was truly willing to partner with him.</p><p>A broad, triumphant grin spread across Jack’s face and he heartily clasped my hand, giving it a good shake. “It’s an accord, then! Now, let’s go get that bag o’ yours back, shall we? What ship was it that you came in on?”</p><p>“The <em>Wanderlust</em>.”</p><p>“Hm. I’m afraid I don’t know that one.”</p><p>“That doesn’t surprise me. Captain Edmunds took it under his control when he attacked us,” I explained. I started to follow him as he made to leave the alley. “She’s a fully rigged pinnace.”</p><p>“A pinnace? Don’t see those down here very often. But, it should make her easier t’ pick out down at the docks.” He must’ve seen the skeptical look on my face, because he quickly added, “Don’t worry—we’re not going to try anything in the middle o’ the day. We’re just going to scout out your ship while also looking for a vessel that happens t’ be going t’ Tortuga.”</p><p>I nodded in understanding. “What’s so important about Tortuga, anyway? Why not a closer port?”</p><p>“Because, like Shipwreck City, Tortuga is essentially a safe haven for pirates,” he said. “That, and no one knows me there, so it’ll be easier for us t’ get up to no good.” He looked back at the path ahead of us. “Oh, and I hear they have some <em>lovely </em>wenches there.”</p><p>“Says the lad who just told me he needs all his coin for supplies.”</p><p>He wore a pout when he looked up at me. “While it may cost a pretty penny to spend a night with one, it costs naught to merely look upon one of the lovely women of the night.”</p><p>His words made me remember lovely Mary from last night. “Unless you’re buying dinner in their establishment,” I murmured, thinking I had spoken more to myself than out loud.</p><p>Turns out I was wrong and that Jack had, indeed, heard me. “Ahh…I see the lasses at the Siren have managed t’ ensnare you with their siren songs, have they not?” he teased.</p><p>“Aye, they did,” I replied with a small laugh, my cheeks turning a bit pink. A thoughtful expression came to my face and I patted my vest near my chest. There was the sound of metal coins clinking together and I grinned. The blokes hadn’t stolen my coin. “Might dine there again, as a matter of fact.”</p><p>“Just dine?” He gave me an odd look.</p><p>“I don’t have enough to spend the night with one <em>and </em>buy myself some food,” I told him. “Though, when I woke up in shackles around midnight, I really regretted <em>not</em> staying the night.”</p><p>He let out a hearty laugh. “That I don’t doubt. I also don’t doubt that’ll be your last time in shackles, either—especially if this partnership works out well.”</p><p>“You plan on us getting arrested quite often, then?”</p><p>“Not often, no, but even the greatest pirates get caught once in a while. Even my old man has gotten caught and he’s one of the best pirates there is. It’s practically a rite of passage.” As we passed through an open section of road, his gold tooth glinted in the sunlight. “But, if all goes according t’ plan, our names will be up there with the great pirate lords. We might even become pirate lords ourselves one day.”</p><p>‘This lad’s certainly got his head up in the clouds,’ I thought. Regardless, I let out a laugh. “You’re going to tell me just who the pirate lords are and how they came to be such,” I said out loud. “I only know that they exist, but not their purpose.”</p><p>He nodded in understanding. “Fair enough. But, as it is a long and storied explanation that will surely dry the mouth out, it is something best told while having either drinks or a meal.”</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Bartered Passage and Lunch with Mary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello lovely readers~! Just wanted to give a quick thanks to those of you who have faved, followed, and/or commented on this fic! It makes me happy to see you all enjoying it so far! </p><p>And yay for 1am uploads~! XD</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“There, that’s the <em>Wanderlust</em>. Though, it looks like she’s going to be renamed.”</p><p>“Mhm. Seems like Edmunds is already modifying her t’ be more useful as a pirate vessel than a merchant one.” Jack glanced over at me as we hid behind a small stack of crates; we were keeping our voices hushed. “How well do you know the layout o’ the ship?”</p><p>I turned to look at him in return, my brow rising. “Fairly well, considering I was on it for a handful of months. But that’s only if the layout below deck hasn’t gotten changed.”</p><p>He nodded in understanding. “And I assume you kept your seabag down in the crew’s quarters? If so, it may not even be on this ship anymore. Might be on Edmunds’ main ship.”</p><p>I rubbed the back of my neck. “Actually, when the ship got taken over, I hid it.”</p><p>“You hid it?” His brow rose and his tone sounded a bit skeptical.</p><p>“Aye. I didn’t want them stealing the contents of my bag.”</p><p>“So where did you hide it?”</p><p>“Down by the tiller.”</p><p>His brows furrowed in confusion. “The tiller? Why in the world would you hide it by the tiller?”</p><p>I shrugged. “I figured it was the one place on the ship that they wouldn’t go searching for anything of value. Not much use storing anything in the same place as the tiller, after all. It’s already cramped there, so adding more stuff would just make it more so if you needed to make repairs.”</p><p>“That…is actually fairly good thinkin’, Drystan,” he admitted after a moment. “But on a ship that small, that must’ve been a bit o’ a squeeze for a tall bloke like you.”</p><p>“Not really. Just had to duck down a bit.” Looking back at the ship, I squinted slightly; the Caribbean sun was bright and the way it reflected off both the water and the white-painted hull of the ship hurt my eyes. ‘I’m going to have to get myself some kohl,’ I thought. Through my squinting, I was able to make out a handful of men on the deck. Some of them were sawing long, wooden planks in half while others were using hammers and chisels to shave down the ends of some of the planks.</p><p>Having also turned his attention back to the ship, Jack said, “With the ship getting worked on like this, there won’t be many men stationed on it come nightfall. No one’s going t’ try t’ take a ship that’s barely sea-worthy, so there’s no point in placing all your manpower there.” He brushed one of his many braids from his face. “The only problem is the night watchman. Because o’ him we won’t be able t’ just sneak up the gangplank and down below decks.”</p><p>“We could go in through one of the gun ports,” I suggested. “Or one of us could cause a distraction.”</p><p>“A distraction would be our best bet,” he said, “unless you don’t mind going for a swim in order t’ reach the gunports.”</p><p>I shrugged a second time. “To be honest, I’m probably more at home in the water than I am on land,” I half-joked. “But I agree with the distraction being the best course of action.”</p><p>“Great!” he chirped. “Since you know the ship far better than me, I’ll be in charge o’ the distraction while you fetch your bag.”</p><p>“What will you do for it?”</p><p>It was his turn to shrug. “Don’t know yet,” he admitted. “But I promise you, come nightfall, I <em>will </em>have something in mind.” He flashed me a cheeky grin before turning and moving to crawl away from the crates. I followed after him. “For now, however, we need t’ find you a ship going to Tortuga.”</p><p>I was about to question why he hadn’t said ‘us’ when I remembered it was his intention to stowaway while I bartered passage. And with how well voices at normal volume could travel this close to the water, I wasn’t about to correct him. “Aye, that’d be a good idea.”</p><p>“And lucky for you, I know almost every cap’n currently docked here and of those ones, I’m on good terms with <em>most</em> o’ them!”</p><p>My brow rose slightly. “How do you know so many?”</p><p>“I know them through my dad,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “But that’s not important. What <em>is </em>important is that I know o’ four captains who frequently make port at Tortuga, so we’ll go see them first.”</p><p>I nodded in understanding. “And who would those captains be?”</p><p>“They would be Captains de Montiano, Tremaine, Coopersmith, an’ Blaire.” He brushed some braids from his face, letting out a quiet sigh. “And remember,” he said, his voice hushed again, “I’m just helping you find a ship t’ Tortuga. I’ve no adventures planned, no ulterior motives—just helping a friend out. And if any of them ask, we met when you asked me for directions.”</p><p>My brow remained raised. While it was understandable that Jack wanted to keep his plans hidden from the captains, I felt like he was almost being <em>too </em>cautious. He also seemed nervous. “Well, luckily, we <em>did </em>meet when I asked for directions,” I reminded him. “Is everything alright?” I then asked. “You seem a bit on edge.”</p><p>He rubbed the back of his neck, a grin coming to his lips. “Ah, aye, everything’s fine. I just don’t want any o’ them to think I seemed suspicious and end up telling my dad.”</p><p>“Trying to avoid a walloping?”</p><p>“Aye, exactly that,” he answered. “It’s just one o’ many downsides there is t’ your dad knowing over half the people livin’ in Shipwreck City.”</p><p>As much as I wanted to ask who his dad was, something told me the he wasn’t yet comfortable enough with me to divulge that information. Which was wholly understandable, given that we had just properly met an hour and a half ago.</p><p>The first ship we stopped at was the <em>Princesa del Océano</em>, which was captained by de Montiano. She was a fore and aft rigged brig painted with bright greens and blues and he was a middle-aged man. Despite the large scar across the bridge of his nose, he was quite handsome. Handsome as he was, however, he wouldn’t be heading to Tortuga for quite some time—instead, he was headed to la Florida for his sister’s wedding.</p><p>The next ship was the <em>Tigress, </em>an unremarkable sloop captained by Coopersmith. He was an old man with a weather-beaten face and only one arm. As it turns out, he was actually retiring from life on the sea and was waiting for his nephew to arrive in Shipwreck City in order to pass the ship off to him. After congratulating him on having survived so long, Jack and I continued on to the far end of the docks, where the third ship was docked.</p><p>This one was larger than the other two, being a frigate named the <em>Sunrise</em>. As we approached, I was expecting to see another middle-aged or older man to be the captain, but as it turns out, Captain Tremaine was, in fact, the middle-aged woman who had participated in the contest yesterday. Upon seeing us, her brow rose and a bit of an amused smile came to her lips.</p><p>“Sorry, lad, I’m not about t’ go for a rematch,” she joked. “Though I can afford it, I don’t want t’ be out another two doubloons.”</p><p>“No worries, captain, I’m here for a different reason,” I said, putting on a handsome, though cheeky, grin. Jack looked up at me, his brow rising.</p><p>“You know her, mate?” he questioned.</p><p>“Remember that contest I told you about? She was one of the competitors,” I explained.</p><p>“And I see ye know young Sparrow ‘ere,” Tremaine chuckled, her brow rising as well. “What kind o’ trouble are ye gettin’ this poor lad into, Sparrow?”</p><p>A feigned pout came to Jack’s lips. “No trouble at all for once, captain! I’m just helping him find a ship bound for Tortuga,” he answered. “The bloke’s a bit clueless as t’ how t’ go about things here in Shipwreck City, being new to piracy and all.”</p><p>An intrigued expression came to her face and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Tortuga, eh? An’ just what’s in Tortuga for a young lad like ye t’ be goin’ there for? Yer a wee bit young t’ be frequentin’ the brothels, don’t ye think?”</p><p>“Oh, it’s not the brothels I’m going there for. I’ve got family in Tortuga,” I replied. The lie left my mouth as smoothly as the truth; I hoped it was vague enough for her to believe, though.</p><p>“The whelp’s feeling a wee bit homesick and is wanting to see some familiar faces,” Jack told her with a snicker. “He hasn’t been home in nearly a year.” He, too, was quite smooth with his lies.</p><p>Tremaine snorted. “Whelp? Sparrow, there’s no way the lad’s younger than ye. If anyone were a whelp, it’d be <em>ye</em>.” She reached over and ruffled his hair affectionately, chuckling when she saw the genuine pout that had come to his lips. Then, turning back to me, she said, “Say I were t’ be goin’ t’ Tortuga the day after tomorrow…how do ye plan on payin’ yer passage fee?”</p><p>“I can work,” I told her. “I’m best up in the rigging, but I’m willing to do any job that needs done to cover the cost.” I stole a glance over at Jack only to see that he was eyeing the ship carefully. ‘Probably looking for the best way to sneak aboard,’ I thought.</p><p>“The riggin’? Now that’s not a job I see lads yer age doin’ very often. Ye youngsters are usually better suited for bracin’ the sails an’ scrubbin’ decks.”</p><p>“If those are the jobs I’m assigned for the duration of the trip, then I’ll be happy to do them,” I told her. I knew it would be pointless to argue on something like this; she had far more years of experience than me, after all. Not to mention, she was a <em>captain</em>. Only first mates or bo’suns argued with a captain.</p><p>Tremaine studied me for a long moment. “If yer willin’ t’ work, then aye, I’ll take ye t’ Tortuga,” she finally said. “Be ‘ere around seven, the day after tomorrow. I like t’ leave with the mornin’ tides.”</p><p>I nodded. “Understood, captain.” I also made a mental note to try talking with her in private; being a female pirate captain, she might be able to give me some tips about being a woman while on the high seas. In fact, she might even tell me that I wouldn’t need to hide my gender. ‘From what I’ve seen so far, I may not have to hide it, but I’d rather be safe than sorry…’ I thought.</p><p>“Before ye go, what’s yer name, lad?” Tremaine then questioned.</p><p>“Emil Drystan.”</p><p>She nodded in understanding. “Alright then. I’ll see ye morning after next, Emil Drystan.” Looking at Jack, she grinned and added, “Sparrow, tell yer old man next time I’m in port ‘e an’ I need t’ ‘ave a few drinks an’ play some liar’s dice for old time’s sake, savvy?” She ruffled his hair again.</p><p>Jack struggled to keep a smile on his face, but he managed. “Aye, I’ll do that for you, cap’n,” he told her.</p><p>We bid the captain goodbye and turned to head back into the city. I stole a look over at Jack again to find him trying to get his hair tamed—or rather, <em>his</em> version of tamed. When was the last time his hair had seen a comb, I couldn’t have even begun to guess.</p><p>“Well, we have nothin’ to do until nightfall,” he said. “Want me t’ show you around the city? Or do you need t’ stop by the market for anything…?”</p><p>“I was actually thinking about getting some food.” I glanced up at the northern stack as I felt my stomach growl; from here, I couldn’t see the Saucy Siren, but I knew whereabout it was in regards to height.</p><p>A small grin came to Jack’s lips. “Judging by where you’re looking, you’re thinking about going t’ the Siren again, aren’t you?”</p><p>I shrugged, a small grin on my lips and just a bit of color coming to my cheeks. “Why not? It had good food an’ drink. It’s also the only establishment other than the Ten Tickles that I know about here.”</p><p>Jack snorted at that. “You stayed at the Ten Tickles? Aye, you <em>really </em>are new around here.”</p><p>Not liking the sound of that, I frowned. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”</p><p>“Nothing—if you like getting ripped off. Anyone who’s been here for more than a couple o’ months knows to stay away from that place. Those who are new here, though, go there because they promise fair prices for decent sleeping quarters.” He shook his head, quietly laughing. “While they do have relatively clean and comfortable accommodations, the price is anything but fair. What they charge you is the same price for a room at a <em>truly </em>clean an’ comfortable place.”</p><p>“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t pay when I stayed there.” He gave me a strange look. “I bartered a room. I did a bunch of work for the owner and he gave me a room in return.”</p><p>Jack looked impressed. “Now that’s using your brain,” he told me. As we walked, he pulled out the coin purse he had stolen, as well as a second purse. While the purse he had stolen was in fairly good condition, the other one was in just as poor a state as my own. He poured the contents of both into his palm, quickly counting out the coins. “Hm. Seems like I’ve got enough for a meal <em>an’ </em>some supplies. As such, I think I’ll join you for a meal.” He poured the coins into the battered coin purse before tossing the other over his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Nearly half an hour later found us walking into the Saucy Siren. Being the middle of the day, it wasn’t too busy—a nice change from last night. We went to a table near a gunport that had been fashioned into a window.</p><p>Just as we got settled in our seats, one of the maids started to approach our table. To my surprise, I found that it was Mary and she looked just as lovely as she had the previous night. She was around the same age as me—maybe a year or two older—with light-brown skin and jet-black hair that was pulled back in a simple braid. Her brow rose slightly and she smiled when she saw me.</p><p>“Back again, are ye?” she said with a small laugh. “An’ here I was expecting ye t’ have found a crew t’ join and sailed off by now.” As she got closer, however, the smile faded from her lips. I was just starting to wonder if maybe she was unhappy to see Jack when she asked, “An’ just what happened t’ your face, lad? Ye weren’t sportin’ that big bruise when I saw ye leave last night!”</p><p>“Ah…I may have had a run in with some blokes who were bigger and meaner than me,” I replied, a sheepish smile on my lips. “It’s fine, though. And, in a way, I <em>did </em>find a crew. Though, it’s only for long enough to get me to Tortuga.”</p><p>“Tortuga?” she repeated, her hands resting on her hips. She didn’t seem entirely convinced by my dismissal of my bruised face, but she didn’t press the matter. More than likely, she quite often saw people come in with worse bruises and injuries. “Now why would a handsome lad like yourself be wantin’ to go t’ a lawless place like Tortuga?” She seemed more amused by this information than anything.</p><p>…But then again, she may have been amused by the blush that had come to my cheeks when she called me ‘handsome’.</p><p>I would have answered her, but Jack beat me to it. “He’s going to see his family, love,” he told her. Rather than the cheeky grin he had been giving Captain Tremaine, he was now wearing a surprisingly handsome smile. “I helped him barter passage on a ship going there the day after tomorrow.”</p><p>Mary blinked, a bit startled to see who had done the talking. “Jack Sparrow?” Her shock wore off almost immediately and she smiled broadly. “Why, long time no see, lad! I don’t think I’ve seen ye since before my mum passed on!”</p><p>Rising to his feet, Jack gave her a theatrically sweeping bow before taking her hand and kissing the back of it. I could hear a few of the other barmaids giggling at his display. “Aye, it’s been a few years, lovely Mary. I was saddened t’ hear about your mum’s passing. Such a kind woman and talented baker! The Court has sorely missed her presence and her baked goods.”</p><p>She let out a soft laugh, watching as he took his seat once more. “I’m sure they have—your da’ especially. He always did enjoy the sweet rolls she made.” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Why don’t I get the two of ye somethin’ t’ eat and drink? It’s not too busy, so if ye’d like, I could sit an’ chat with ye while ye eat.”</p><p>“That sounds quite agreeable,” I told her, still grinning. “I’ll have whatever the special is and some beer, please.”</p><p>“The same, but with rum instead o’ beer,” Jack replied. He went slightly cross-eyed as Mary reached over and flicked the tip of his nose.</p><p>“Don’t think I don’t know better, lad,” she chuckled. “Your da’ says not t’ serve ye rum until you’re seventeen an’ I know for a fact you’re still just sixteen. It’ll be beer for ye, lad.”</p><p>He pouted as she walked off, rubbing the end of his nose. “Dammit,” he muttered.</p><p>My brow rose in a mixture of amusement and confusion. “I take it your father has quite a bit of influence over Shipwreck City, seeing as how he knows almost all the captains <em>and </em>has managed to get people to not serve you rum.” I leaned back in my seat. “Is he one of those pirate lords you mentioned earlier?”</p><p>“Worse.” He sank down in his seat slightly, a heavy, defeated sigh leaving his mouth. “He’s a pirate lord <em>and </em>the Keeper of the Code.”</p><p>Having learned a bit about the Keeper of the Code the previous night, my eyes widened slightly. “Oh…well that explains a few things.”</p><p>His brow rose and he looked at me. “You know what the Keeper o’ the Code is?”</p><p>“Somewhat. Mary explained it a little bit to me last night, though she didn’t get the chance to tell me much.”</p><p>Nodding in understanding, he sat upright again and brought his arms to rest on the table. “Essentially, my father and the other pirate lords are the parliament o’ pirates. My dad is also the judge and executioner for anyone caught disobeying or insulting the Code.” He then shook a scolding finger at me; I couldn’t tell if it was done in jest or seriousness. “Don’t you <em>ever </em>break or insult the Code, mind you. He <em>will </em>find out and he will<em> not</em> give any quarter.”</p><p>“Duly noted,” I replied, now knowing he was being completely serious. “How did he come to be Keeper of the Code?”</p><p>“That…I don’t actually know. He’s never told me—but I’m guessing my Grandmama had a hand in it. She was a pirate lord during the reign o’ the Second Brethren Court. Fearsome pirate she was—still is, actually. Very strict with her punishments.” He then leaned forward and whispered. “She’s the main reason I want t’ get out o’ this place.”</p><p>My brows furrowed slightly in confusion as he continued to speak; from the sounds of it, Jack came from a line of pirate royalty—if it could be called such. I could also already tell that he may not have been the best person to ask about the pirate lords and the Code, given that he was now on a tangent about his grandmother (who was apparently as spry and as deadly as ever despite being in her early eighties). This information, though, got me wondering as to why he was being so stingy with the coins he had stolen; if his family was so important to the area, wouldn’t they have plenty of gold for him to use?</p><p>‘Then again,’ I thought, shifting in my seat, ‘he is trying to run away and is trying to do it subtly. He probably doesn’t want his family finding out about this until he’s long gone from Shipwreck City.’</p><p>Jack’s voice was suddenly brought to a halt by the arrival of Mary and our meals. “Here ye lads go,” she said, carefully setting a bowl of fish soup in front of us before also setting down a tankard for each of us. “Two beers an’ two specials o’ the day. Before I join ye, do ye want me t’ fetch ye some crusty bread for dipping, perhaps?”</p><p>We both shook our heads as we reached for our spoons. “This should be good enough, love. Thank you, though,” Jack assured her before blowing across the surface of his soup-filled spoon.</p><p>She returned the tray that she used to bring over our food to the bar before coming back towards us. On the way, she plucked up a chair from an unoccupied table and brought it with her. Setting it down, she then tucked her dress beneath her and sat down. “So, how did the two o’ ye come across each other?”</p><p>“Funny story, that,” Jack replied. “You see, I had just nicked the coin purse from some well-to-do man strollin’ through town and I darted into an alleyway t’ hide from him. Well, at the very back of the alleyway, there was Emil, struggling t’ get himself out o’ a set o’ shackles.”</p><p>Mary frowned, and turned her head towards me. “I take it the shackles have somethin’ to do with ye gettin’ that bruise?”</p><p> Having just taken a bite of soup, I nodded. I made quick work of chewing it; I was pleased to find that the soup was quite good and the fish wasn’t overcooked. “I’m afraid to say it does,” I admitted once I had swallowed. “Remember that little contest I told you about last night?”</p><p>She nodded. “The breath-holding one?”</p><p>“Aye, that one.” Across from me, I could see Jack was now wearing a mixture of confusion and intrigue. “Well, the lad who came in second place was an <em>extremely </em>sore loser and, because of that, I got ambushed and woke up around midnight in shackles.”</p><p>“How did ye get away?” Mary questioned.</p><p>“Well, after I got my hands back around to my front, I saw that there were only two men in the place where I had been taken,” I explained. “So, after finding a nice, heavy spade, I managed to knock one out and managed to flee the place. The second bloke chased after me, but I managed to escape.”</p><p>Jack held up his hand, drawing our attention. “Firstly, you need t’ learn how t’ tell your stories in a more interesting way, mate,” he said. “And, secondly, what sort o’ <em>breath-holding </em>contest warrants someone getting <em>that </em>worked up over losing?”</p><p>“They were holdin’ their breath underwater,” Mary answered for me, as I had taken another bite of soup. “Emil here can apparently hold his breath for over five minutes underwater.”</p><p>“Impossible,” Jack said, his brows furrowing deeply.</p><p>“I’d prove it to you, but I’m currently eating,” I told him with a small shrug. Lifting my tankard, I took a drink of beer.</p><p>He gave me a skeptical look. “I’ll have t’ remember that, then, because you’ve got me intrigued now, mate.” Lightly shaking his head, he took another bite of his own soup. “But aye, you need t’ work on your storytelling a bit, mate. That was probably the least thrilling escape story I’ve ever heard—and I’ve heard quite a lot.”</p><p>My brow rose as I chewed a bite of soup. After swallowing, I said, “To be honest, it wasn’t even very exciting when it took place.” Other than being shot at and surviving a two-hundred-foot dive into the ocean, it really <em>hadn’t </em>been that exciting. “I’m sure that, in the future, I’ll have escapes that are far more exciting to talk about.”</p><p>“If you stick with me, mate, you will,” Jack said with a cheeky grin that made me unsure if I should be looking forward to aforementioned escapes or if I should be dreading them.</p><p>“Don’t scare the poor thing,” Mary laughed, her brow rising. She then looked at me. “Jackie’s clan is known for their knack o’ getting into—an’ out o’—trouble.”</p><p>I nodded slowly. “I’ll be sure to take that information into consideration should we ever find ourselves on an adventure together one day.” From the corner of my eye, I could see Mary looking me over; it was a struggle to not blush.</p><p>“For a sailor, ye sure sit quite prim an’ proper,” she commented, amusement in her voice. She then giggled. “Like a nobleman in one o’ those fancy portraits they commission o’ themselves.”</p><p>Jack nodded in agreement. “You also walk really prim an’ proper, too,” he added. “You have a strict upbringing or somethin’?”</p><p>I cleared my throat slightly and, realizing that I was sitting on the edge of my seat, I scooted back and allowed myself to slouch a bit. “My stepfather was a bit of a stickler when it came to posture.” It wasn’t a lie; before he was killed, the ass had always been on my case about my posture. Of course, I was usually in a corset whenever he was around, so slouching was uncomfortable. “It’s a habit that’ll take me a while to break.”</p><p>“It’s not a bad thing t’ have good posture,” Mary assured me. “Though, I hear it’s a bit harder for men t’ maintain the good posture.”</p><p>“Why’s that?” Jack questioned, his brow rising.</p><p>“Because women’s stays help keep them in an upright position,” I answered automatically. “In fact, stays make it more comfortable to stand upright and do laborious work while making sitting for long periods of time <em>uncomfortable</em>.” When I glanced up, I saw the two of them looking at me strangely; I should have realized that the information I just told them wouldn’t be information a man would know. “I’ve four sisters.”</p><p>“And here I thought you had learned that from visitin’ a few brothels before coming here,” Jack joked.</p><p>“Four sisters…I can’t imagine having that many siblings,” Mary chuckled. “I’ve only got a brother and he’s a bit o’ a handful at times.”</p><p>I quietly laughed. “To be honest, I’ve only to got one <em>full</em> sister. The other three are half-sisters.” Tucking some hair behind my ear, I scooted my chair closer to the table and allowed myself to rest an elbow on the tabletop.</p><p>“So, are ye the oldest? Or second oldest?”</p><p>“Ah…neither, actually. I’m smack in the middle.” A small, sheepish smile came to my lips. “Me and my second-youngest sister are the results of our mother having a bit of extramarital fun.”</p><p>Mary giggled at that, but nodded in understanding at the same time. “That’s a fairly common occurrence here,” she said. “Though, it doesn’t help that a good portion o’ the lasses here—married or not—are prostitutes.”</p><p>“The oldest and most noble of professions,” Jack said with a small grin.</p><p>Mary was about to reply when someone from behind the bar called out to her; it was an older woman, her brown-and-grey hair hanging in thick curls about her shoulders. “Ah, pardon me, lads—work calls.” Giving up an apologetic smile, she stood up; before she turned to leave, though, she gave us a playful wink.</p><p>Despite her being out of earshot in just seconds, Jack leaned forward. “Did you happen t’ notice anything about the way she talked t’ us, mate?” he quietly questioned.</p><p>My brow rose. “Not really, no. Why?”</p><p>“She did next t’ no flirting,” he told me, “which you should keep in mind whenever you talk with lasses in places like these. If the lasses don’t flirt much, it almost always means they’re not a ‘lady o’ the night’, savvy?”</p><p>Well, that certainly made sense. Though we had talked quite a bit the previous night as well, Mary had only dropped an occasional mild compliment whereas some of her coworkers had flirted quite a bit with me. “Understood,” I said. “And thanks for letting me know. Now I won’t embarrass myself.”</p><p>He chuckled, leaning back once more. “I kind o’ figured you didn’t know, but it’s better t’ be safe than sorry in these sorts o’ situations. You can also tell a bit by the way they dress. The prostitutes tend t’ dress in a way that advertises their bodily assets in a more discernable manner. Like her.” He nodded at a brunette woman across the room. She was seated on the edge of a table as she flirted with a man in his mid-thirties—but it wasn’t the color of her hair I noticed first. It was her large breasts, which were practically spilling out overtop her bodice. “See what I mean, mate?”</p><p>Looking back at him, I nodded. “It’d be a wee bit hard to <em>not </em>see what you mean.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Thieves in the Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you remember the plan?”</p><p>“You mean the one that involved you figuring out a distraction while I sneak aboard and below decks?” I looked over at Jack, my brow raised and my voice hushed.</p><p>He nodded, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Aye, that one!” He scooted a bit closer to me so he could point towards the bow of the ship. “I’m going t’ be creating the distraction up there,” he told me, his voice just as quiet as mine. “What I have in mind should afford you enough time t’ sneak aboard and get below deck. You best be quick, though, because I <em>can’t </em>guarantee that it’ll be enough time for you t’ get back here.”</p><p>I gave him a curious look. “And what is it, exactly, that you have planned for your distraction?”</p><p>“Don’t you worry, mate,” he replied, a mischievous smirk replacing his grin. “I’ve got this all under control and ready t’ go—you just need t’ trust me, savvy?”</p><p>Having little other choice, I nodded. “Savvy.”</p><p>“Good. Now, wait here until I give the signal.” He crawled out from behind the stack of crates and, staying crouched down, he made his way down the dock.</p><p>As I crouched there, waiting for whatever his signal was going to be, the shock of the day was finally starting to sink in. ‘What am I doing?’ I thought, frowning. ‘I should be out, trying to find myself a <em>proper</em> crew to join. Instead, I’m sitting here, waiting for a lad younger than me to give me a signal to sneak aboard a ship so I can steal my own belongings back…’ Rubbing my wrists, I shook my head and closed my eyes.</p><p>‘To be fair, though, he did help me get out of those shackles,’ I continued to think, trying to point out the positives of my situation. ‘And he seems friendly enough. He hasn’t tried pickpocketing me yet and he <em>has </em>been willing to help me learn more about being a pirate. And who knows? Maybe this venture he needs help with will actually be profitable and fun?’</p><p>That brought a small grin to my lips—not the profitable bit, but the fun portion. Until I had started going to sea, my life had been quite boring. It had been typical for someone of my status, with lessons on how to be the perfect, docile woman and future nobleman’s wife filling mine and my sisters’ days.</p><p>But for the most part, they hadn’t been fun lessons, especially since our governess was quite strict with me. She had every right to be, as I would frequently don trousers and sneak into town to play with the lower-class boys. Despite all this, I still managed to do well enough that I didn’t get in <em>too </em>much trouble—from her, at least.</p><p>Hearing the sound of breaking glass, my eyes opened only to find flames rolling down the deck of the ship. The sailor on watch swore loudly and rushed towards them so he could try to put them out. Knowing that was the signal, I bolted from my hiding spot. With just the one sailor, it was easy enough for me to hurry up the gangplank, unseen. I slipped down one of the opened hatches, my eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkness.</p><p>To my luck, there were a few beams of moonlight filtering down through spaces in the deck above, as well as the open hatch and a few open gunports. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to let me see that the ship had basically been gutted and now had planks of wood, tools, and coils of rope haphazardly strewn about. I had to take care not to trip over anything while making my way back to the stern.</p><p>Reaching the door that kept the tiller safe from the rest of the ship, I opened it to find nothing but darkness—<em>pitch black </em>darkness. I kept my hands in front of me, using them to grope around in the dark so I wouldn’t bash my head on the tiller while I carefully moved my foot in front of me to feel for any unevenness in the floor.</p><p>‘Please let it be here,’ I thought, my brows furrowing. My foot continued to feel around for the bag, though I couldn’t feel anything. Just when I was getting ready to give up, though, my foot pressed against something that had some give to it, but wasn’t soft. Grinning, I crouched down and felt around in the darkness for the bag.</p><p>“What the…?” I whispered, my hand having brushed against more than one bag. Continuing to feel around, I searched for any more and, to my surprise, I found a sea chest as well. While the bags were quite full, the chest felt like it had barely anything in it. ‘Richardson’s chest,’ I told myself. Richardson had been the ship’s cabin boy. ‘He and someone else followed my lead and hid their belongings…’</p><p>I moved my hand over to one of the bags; almost instantly, I knew this one wasn’t mine. From what I could feel, there was only clothes inside of it, though after pushing along the whole bag, I found something that felt like a coin purse towards the bottom.</p><p>‘He’ll never know,’ I thought, opening the bag. Shoving my arm into it, I felt around until my fingers brushed against a small, leather bag. I also felt cold metal—a flask. ‘Ooh, someone was breaking the rules…’ The only alcohol our former captain had allowed onboard was the weak beer we drank in place of water. Taking hold of both the purse and the flask, I pulled them from the bag. They felt quite weighty, letting me know they were full.</p><p>‘Now, time to see if this chest has a lock on it…’ Setting the flask and purse on the floor beside me, I felt along the chest, searching for the lock that denoted its front. I murmured a small curse in realization—I didn’t have the key for it, making it useless to try and search it. ‘Depending on the craftsmanship, I might be able to pop the lock…’</p><p>I pulled my seabag over and, opening it, slipped my arm inside. To my great relief, I felt the wooden box that held my astrolabe as well as the much smaller, square box that was my compass. There was also a thick, leather-bound book—my journal (the first of many, as a matter of fact)—and the wooden box containing my ink and quills for writing. ‘Glad you’re all still in there…’ Further down, my fingers brushed against the hilt of a dagger. ‘There we go.’ I took hold of it and pulled it out of the bag.</p><p>Unsheathing the knife, I started to wedge the tip of the blade beneath the metal mechanism holding the lock in place. It took a bit of strength and patience, but I was eventually able to pry the metal away from the wood. Lifting the lid, I cautiously felt around inside. Unlike the bag, however, there really wasn’t anything special in it—just some clothes, a spare set of shoes, and what felt like a pipe.</p><p>I shook my head and closed the chest back up before sheathing my knife. Instead of putting it back in my bag, I belted it around my calf and covered it with my trousers and boot. The coin purse and flask, however, I <em>did </em>put in my seabag before cinching it up as tight as I could.</p><p>Standing, I left the small room and, after making sure the door was shut, carefully made my way towards the stairs. Hearing no commotion on the deck, I figured the watchman had managed to put out the small fire. This was confirmed when I slowly climbed a few steps and peered over the edge of the hatch.</p><p>He was slowly pacing the deck and I could hear him grumbling to himself. As he got closer, I ducked down so he wouldn’t see me.</p><p>“Stupid lantern…I told ‘Enry t’ make sure the lanterns were tied tightly, but did ‘e? No. An’ wot nearly ‘appened because o’ his carelessness? Nearly burnt down the cap’n’s new ship, that’s wot!” His voice was extremely close now and I felt my heart starting to race; I glanced up and swallowed hard.</p><p>He was right in front of me, his back facing the hatch.</p><p>If I made one small noise or if he turned around and happened to look down, I’d be caught. As such, I held my breath, waiting to see if he would move. But he didn’t—he just stood there, continuing to grumble to himself about the incompetence of his ship mates.</p><p>With my easiest escape route blocked, I ever so slowly crept back down the stairs. ‘Looks like it’s going to be the gunport, then,’ I told myself. I went over to one of the open gunports on the portside of the ship, peering out to see just how far it was to the dock. ‘Hm. Too far for me to jump. I could go into the water, but I’m not sure if the cloth of my bag can resist letting in water for the duration of me swimming to the shore. Not to mention, it’s low tide…’</p><p>It was then Jack appeared. He stayed low to the ground, his eyes constantly darting between me and the watchman. Staying silent, he motioned for me to toss him my bag. Against all my better judgements, I nodded and, lifting the bag, got into position to chuck it. He held up a finger, signaling for me to wait; the watchman must have begun walking again. Nearly two minutes passed before Jack motioned for me to throw.</p><p>While my bag wasn’t particularly heavy, it did have some weight to it, so when I chucked it forward, a grunt unconsciously left my throat. I watched it sail through the air before <em>just </em>barely landing in Jack’s arms. A cheeky grin came to his lips and he gave me a thumb’s up.</p><p>I pointed at myself, then the water. He nodded and motioned towards the city; leaning further out of the gunport, I could see that there was a floating dock about a hundred yards away—a good thing to see, given the gap between the water and the dock Jack was standing on. After giving him a nod of confirmation, I began to climb out of the square hole. Once I was entirely outside of the ship, I let go.</p><p>The water that surrounded me was cool, but not cold, though it still sent a shiver down my spine. An immediate sense of calmness filled my mind and, with a small exhale, I smiled. Remaining just below the surface, I began swimming towards the dock. Halfway there, it occurred to me that I should <em>probably</em> breathe in some air and I let my head break through the surface. I sucked in a deep breath before submerging myself entirely again once more.</p><p>By the time Jack reached the floating dock, I was already out of the water and starting to stand up. His was brow was raised and a slightly confused expression on his face—at least, from what I could see in the moonlight, it looked confused. With no lit lanterns in this area, it was hard to tell.</p><p>“How did you make it to the dock before me?” he questioned.</p><p>Shrugging off my vest, I started to wring it out. “I’m a fast swimmer, I suppose. Thank you, by the way. For helping me get that back.” I nodded my head at the bag.</p><p>“I’m surprised by the weight o’ it, t’ be honest.” He gave the bag a little toss into the air before catching it again. “You’ve definitely got more than just the usual clothes and shoes in here.”</p><p>“Aye, I do. I’ve my astrolabe, a compass, a journal, a writing kit…and, after searching the other seabag and sea chest that I found stored with mine, a rather full coin purse and a full flask.” A cheeky grin came to my lips when I heard an impressed chuckle leave Jack’s mouth.</p><p>“Oh, so you weren’t the only one t’ hide your bag? Well, your crewmates’ good ideas seemed t’ have been in your favor.”</p><p>With my vest now mostly water free, I pulled it back on. My shirt and trousers were already almost dry as well, though I had to take off my boots to empty them of seawater. “Aye, it does. Now, the question is how much money is in that purse and what kind of drink is in that flask.” Taking my bag from him, I slung it over my shoulder and followed alongside him as he made his way towards the city once more.</p><p>“I don’t recommend counting it out in the open—especially at night. During the day can be dangerous enough, but when the sun goes down, the lower parts o’ Shipwreck City become quite treacherous.” His brow then rose and he looked at me. “You said earlier you managed t’ barter a room at the Ten Tickles, but where have you stayed since?”</p><p>“I managed to find a secluded spot in an alley for one night, but the other two were spent sleeping out under a palm tree on the beach.”</p><p>He nodded slowly. “Well…since I have t’ be getting back to my own home before dear old Grandmama realizes I’m still gone, I’ll tell you a place where you’ll be able t’ stay in comfort an’ cleanliness,” he said. “Go t’ the southern stack an’ go up almost t’ the top. Look for a place called the ‘Nightingale’s Nest’. There’ll be a plump woman with dark hair an’ bright eyes—she’s my Aunt Hazel. She’s the only one in my family who <em>isn’t </em>half mad an’ is the only one who actually likes me. As such, tell her Jackie sent you and she should give you a good room at a discount, savvy?”</p><p>While I did greatly appreciate this information, I couldn’t help but feel a bit wary at the same time. Jack, it seems, could sense my mixture of hesitation and skepticism, because he reached over and clapped my bicep in a friendly gesture.</p><p>“Don’t worry,” he told me. “I’m not leading you astray—quite the opposite. After all, you’re the one who’s going t’ be helping me get out o’ this place and away from my wretched family.” He shook his head, some braids whipping back and forth as he did so. “But seriously—I have t’ get back home. Remember: The Nightingale’s Nest at the top o’ the southern stack.”</p><p>Before I could ask him if we should meet up again tomorrow and where it should happen, he ran off. There had been a bit of urgency to his voice, so I didn’t bother calling after him. From what he had told me about his grandmother, she was <em>not </em>a woman you wanted to cross.</p><p>Sighing softly, I made my way through the city, steadily working my way upwards. I did my best to make myself look as nondescript as possible so as to avoid trouble. Despite this, I kept my left hand free just in case I needed to grab my sword.</p><p>Once again, I found luck to be on my side, as I eventually reached the Nightingale’s Nest without incident. This far up the stack, things were rather quiet—I daresay they were downright peaceful. I peeked in through one of the gunport-turn-windows and found myself looking at a scene that I expected to find back home: Nicely dressed people, quietly eating dinner in the common room of the inn. Most of them, I saw, were older folks. Some even wore powdered wigs.</p><p>“Retirees,’ I thought, moving to open the door. As I stepped into the place, I was greeted by the scent of sandalwood and…something floral. Jasmine, perhaps? Whatever it was, I knew it had to have been expensive, but not as expensive as the sandalwood. ‘Jack’s aunt must be doing quite well for herself if that’s the sort of incense she’s using…’</p><p>“Can I help ye, lad?” A plump woman with dark hair and bright eyes, came out from behind a counter, a pleasant smile on her lips.</p><p>“I was told by your nephew, Jackie, that I might be able to find a clean and comfortable room here,” I told her, wearing a small, tired smile.</p><p>My words made the woman perk up. “Oh, Jackie sent ye? Ye must be one o’ his friends, then! I don’t get many o’ ye up here. Usually, he’s recommending me t’ folks with a wee bit o’ grey in their hair.” She motioned for me to follow her over to the counter, where a large, leather-bound ledger sat. “How long will ye be stayin’, love?”</p><p>“Two nights.” I watched her run her finger down one of the pages before coming to a stop at the first empty name slot. Keeping her finger in place, she then turned and looked at the pegboard behind her; it had numbered keys dangling from its various pegs, telling her which rooms were still available.</p><p>“And it’s just ye, correct? Yer not planning on bringin’ any company t’ bed with ye?” she questioned, looking back at me for a few seconds.</p><p>“It’ll be just me, my lady.”</p><p>She giggled as I called her ‘my lady’. “Ooh, yer a <em>proper </em>lad,” she commented as she plucked up one of the keys. “An’ how did a proper lad come become friends with my mischievousness nephew, hmm?”</p><p>“We sort of stumbled across one another,” I replied. It wasn’t a lie, but I didn’t think she needed to know the exact details. Reaching into my vest, I pulled out my coin purse while she wrote down a bit of information.</p><p>“An’ I’ll need t’ know yer name, lad,” she said, dipping her quill into the inkpot again.</p><p>“Emil Drystan.”</p><p>“An’ how do ye spell yer surname?” While I spelled it out for her, she quickly transcribed the letters into the register. “It’ll be a pound for two nights,” she then said, standing upright, “but that includes meals, all the rum ye could want, an’ guaranteed safety for yer belongings.”</p><p>Fishing one of the doubloons and a few shillings from the purse, I passed them over to her; I wondered if that was how much the room cost normally or if she had, as Jack claimed she would, given me a bit of a discount. She tucked them away in her own purse before grabbing a lantern and starting to lead me off towards a staircase that went both upwards and downwards. I was surprised when she started to lead me downstairs.</p><p>“Have ye eaten yet, lad?” she asked, one hand holding up her skirts so she wouldn’t trip while the other held onto a railing.</p><p>“Not since this morning, no.”</p><p>Though I couldn’t see it, I could hear the frown she was now wearing as she spoke again. “Well, that just won’t do! Would ye rather eat in the common room or in yer room?”</p><p>“In my room, please. But only if it’s not too much trouble.” We reached the landing and she led me off to the left, down a short hallway.</p><p>“Yer a payin’ customer, lad. Nothing’s too much trouble.” A chuckle left her mouth as she came to a stop at a door that had a wooden ‘9’ hammered to it. Unlocking the door, she opened it and stepped inside, the lantern held aloft to fill the room with light.</p><p>While she went about lighting an oil lamp and a few candles, I walked in and set my seabag down on the bed. Sitting down on the edge, I found it to be fairly comfortable and let myself flop backwards, my eyes closing for a moment. It had been months since I had last slept in a comfortable bed.</p><p>Aunt Hazel must’ve found the sight of me sprawled out amusing, because she let out another laugh. “Ye must’ve just come from a ship, judgin’ by how happy ye are t’ be layin’ on that bed.”</p><p>“Sort of. I’ve been here about five days, but I only had a proper place to sleep on the first night,” I replied, opening an eye to look at her. There was an almost motherly expression on her face as she looked down at me. “As such, I am exceedingly grateful for your hospitality, my lady. I am also quite grateful for how comfortable this bed is.” Finally, I pushed myself into an upright sitting position again and covered my mouth as I yawned.</p><p>“I’ll go fetch ye some dinner,” Aunt Hazel then said, holding the room’s key out to me. “It’s roast chicken an’ vegetables tonight, so would ye rather have rum or wine with yer meal?”</p><p>“Wine, please and thank you.”</p><p>Still amused by my politeness, she nodded and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, so try not t’ fall asleep in that time.”</p><p>“I won’t, my lady.” As she closed the door behind her, I could hear Aunt Hazel commenting on how she hoped her nephew would learn some manners from me.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Setting Sail</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I didn’t see Jack until around dinner the next evening, when he came bursting into my room as if he owned the place (which…in a way he somewhat did, I guess, considering his aunt was the proprietor). Having been in the middle of writing in my journal, I was caught off guard. I instinctively jumped to my feet, and, grabbing my sword from the bed, I drew it and held it in a defensive position.</p><p>Jack, on the other hand, merely raised his brow as he looked at me. “Now is that any way t’ be treating someone who’s brought you food, mate?” he questioned. Lifting his arms slightly, he showed me that he was carrying a tray with two large bowls of soup, two tankards, and a bowl of rolls.</p><p>Sighing, I eased up and sheathed my sword before tossing it back onto my bed. “It is when you come bursting into my room, unannounced,” I told him, my brow rising in turn. I turned around only to let out a quiet curse; when Jack had come in, I had dropped my freshly-refilled quill in shock and there was now a big, black blob in the middle of the page I had been writing on. “You could have just knocked, you know.” Not having anything handy to sop up the excess ink, I pressed my sleeve down into it. ‘Thankfully, I don’t use the expensive stuff,’ I thought.</p><p>“Aye, I could have. But this way kept you on your toes.” He wore a cheeky grin as he came over and set the tray down on the table. Seeing me use my sleeve to soak up the ink, his brow rose once more. “You keep a journal?”</p><p>“Aye, I do,” I replied. Picking up the book, I started to blow on the ink blob in order to get it to dry faster. The last thing I needed was for Jack to get a peek at the pages and find out I wasn’t a man. “It’s a good way to calm down after a long day.” I tapped the blob and then some of the words on the page; when I pulled my finger away, I saw that none of the ink had transferred onto my skin. Content, I marked my spot with the journal’s ribbon and closed it.</p><p>“So, you’re not only a proper lad who knows how t’ sit correctly, you’re also a well-educated one.” There was some amusement in his voice. He shrugged something off his shoulder and, when I glanced over, I saw that it was his own seabag. Propping it against the wall, he moved to sit down. “Sounds like you had a comfortable life. Why’d you take t’ the sea?”</p><p>“Because the sea is my blood and, as much as I love my mother and sisters, I wanted to get away from that life.” Sitting down once more, I rolled up my sleeves, making sure the ink stain was tucked between the layers so it wouldn’t touch my skin. Jack handed me one of the bowls and one of the tankards; I thanked him as I took them. “I see you brought your travel things,” I then pointed out, wanting to change the subject. “Will you be staying the night here?”</p><p>“I’m not quite sure yet, t’ be honest.” Grabbing one of the rolls, he tore it in half before dipping one of the halves into his soup. “I might. If I don’t, though, I was going t’ ask you if you’d be willing t’ watch over my stuff.”</p><p>“I’d be willing, aye, but what will you do when your aunt sees you leaving here <em>without </em>the bag?”</p><p>He held up his finger, signaling that he needed to finish chewing before he would answer. After a moment, he swallowed and replied with, “She didn’t actually see me for very long—only long enough for me t’ ask what room you were in an’ to hand me the master key. So I’m fairly certain she didn’t see that I had anything with me.”</p><p>I nodded slowly, chewing my own bite of soup. It was a ham and potato soup with bits of leek in it; I was surprised by how good it tasted. Though last night’s roast chicken has been quite scrumptious, this soup was downright delicious despite being as simple as it was. “That’s good. We don’t need her getting suspicious and having her tell your parents and grandmother.”</p><p>His nose scrunched up slightly at the thought. “Luckily, she likes me enough that she wouldn’t want t’ get me in trouble.” Lifting his tankard, he took a small drink from it. “How did you like it here, by the way?” he then asked, a grin coming to his lips. There was a bit of beer foam stuck to his upper lip, making it look like he had an older gent’s mustache for a moment. “Comfortable, isn’t it?”</p><p>I nodded, waiting until I swallowed my mouthful of food to talk. “Aye, it was. Your aunt’s a very kind woman. She finds it amusing whenever I call her ‘my lady’.” Grabbing a roll, I tore a chunk off of it before letting it fall into my soup to sop up as much of the liquid as it could. “I can see why she’s your favorite.”</p><p>“Not many o’ the younger residents of Shipwreck City have a good set o’ manners about them, so I’m sure she finds your politeness refreshin’.” A quiet laugh left his mouth and he shook his head. “An’ you made sure t’ tell her I sent you, aye?”</p><p>“Mhm.” Scooping up the bit of roll in my spoon, I started to blow across it.</p><p>“Good. How much did she charge you for the room?”</p><p>“A pound.”</p><p>“Aha! She gave you a real good discount, then.”</p><p>“I sort of figured she had. A pound seemed too cheap for a place this nice, especially when meals and guaranteed safety for your belongings are added in.”</p><p>We both reached for the bowl of rolls at the same time, but he was just a touch quicker. As he snatched up the roll I had been making to grab, he jokingly stuck his tongue out at me before taking a bite. Taking up a different roll, I split it in half.</p><p>The rest of the meal was spent in relative silence, the two of us enjoying the food too much to want to talk. The soup was <em>really </em>good and, when Jack offered to fetch us seconds, I readily accepted the offer.</p><p>While he was gone, I glanced over at his seabag. Like mine, it was made of wax-treated canvas. Unlike mine, however, his looked well-worn and had a few patches sewn onto it. It also didn’t look very full.</p><p>‘I hope he has enough supplies in there to last him however long it’ll take us to reach Tortuga,’ I thought, instinctively reaching for my tankard. I was both embarrassed and disappointed to remember that Jack had taken our drinks to be refilled as well. ‘I don’t know how much he’ll be able to sneak around the ship. Tremaine seems like she keeps a pretty tight ship, which surely means that if any food goes missing, she’ll know.’ Pulling the cloth from my forehead, I ran my fingers through my hair, wincing as they got caught on some tangles.</p><p>‘Still can’t believe I’m doing this…If something goes wrong, though, at least I should be able to find some sort of work in Tortuga, whether it’s on a ship or on land…’</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The next morning, I rose with the sun. It wasn’t terribly hard, given that I hadn’t slept well. A combination of excitement for setting out and the paranoia of sleeping in too long had made for a night filled with tossing and turning.</p><p>Oh, and there was also the fact that Jack took up the majority of the bed.</p><p>Having decided that it would just be easier for the both of us if he stayed the night at the inn, I offered to let him stay in my room, that way one of us could be sure to wake the other. He happily accepted this offer and quickly talked me into letting him sleep in the bed with me, as the floor would ‘get too cold’. I must have drunk more beer than I thought last night, because I normally would have refused; if he had turned out to be a cuddler, there was a chance he might’ve found out my chest wasn’t quite as flat as my baggy shirt and bandages made it look. Luckily, he <em>wasn’t</em> a cuddler—he was just the sort who liked to spread out while he slept.</p><p>I sat up and glanced over my shoulder at him, my brow rising. His hair was all askew (well, more so than normal) and he had one arm flung over his eyes while the other was hanging over the edge of the bed. One of his legs was stretched out towards my side of the bed and, somehow, was on <em>top </em>of the blanket while the other was also dangling over the edge of the bed and was <em>under </em>the blanket.</p><p>‘Heh…he actually looks kind of adorable like that,’ I thought, shaking my head. ‘Almost reminds me of how Tabi hogs the entire bed.’ Tabitha was my second youngest sister and my only full-blooded sister who very much enjoyed taking up as much of the bed as possible.</p><p>Sighing, I stood up and started to get ready for the day. I combed and braided my hair, pulled my boots and vest on, and was just getting ready to wake Jack up when I felt it: My bindings were loosening and beginning to unravel. Tensing up, I looked behind me to check on Jack; he was still fast asleep. So much so that he let out a loud snort and rolled onto his side.</p><p>As I tried not to panic, I turned <em>just </em>enough to allow me to keep an eye on him. Then, reaching under my shirt, I felt around for the end of the bandage only to find it dangling in the middle of my back. Quickly, I began wrapping it around my chest again, though it took a great deal of work. Normally, this was a task I did when shirtless and with a rolled-up length of bandage. Having to untwist the cloth in addition to being sure to not get hung up in my shirt made it an extremely tedious task.</p><p>A groan came from the bed just as I was finishing up. “What time is it?” Jack mumbled, rolling onto his back once more.</p><p>“Still early. I’ve got to head out soon, though,” I told him. I turned my back towards him fully now, racing to get the knot tied in the bindings. “As do you, actually. Tremaine said she wanted to leave by seven.” A sigh of relief left my mouth when, after giving the knot a small tug, it didn’t come loose. I tucked my shirt back into my trousers and pulled on my vest.</p><p>“Mmm…that’s right. We’re leavin’ today,” he said through a yawn. Even though I didn’t see it, just hearing the yawn made me yawn as well. “I think we should leave separately.”</p><p>“So as to not be suspicious?” I turned around to face him only to snort; one arm was draped over his face again while the other was half in the air, his hand moving back and forth as if he were conducting an orchestra.</p><p>“Mhm. Though, we’ll have t’ time it almost perfectly. Tremaine’s a punctual woman—when she says she wants you there by seven, she <em>wants you there by seven</em>.” He lifted his arm slightly to look at me. “You don’t happen t’ know the time now, do you?”</p><p>“I don’t have a pocket watch, I’m afraid.”</p><p>He groaned before rolling onto his side again…and he then rolled off the bed, somehow managing to land on his feet. It looked like he used a great deal of effort when standing up, given how he remained partly slouched over while he made his way to where his seabag sat. He opened it and, after fishing around inside it for a moment, pulled out a somewhat beat-up pocket watch.</p><p>“It’s a quarter past six right now,” he informed me. As I went to grab my seabag, he started to wind the watch. “Which means <em>you </em>need t’ get going, mate.”</p><p>My brow rose. “And why not you?”</p><p>A smirk came to his lips. “I was raised here, remember? I know all the best shortcuts. Even if I left ten minutes <em>after </em>you, I could probably still beat you t’ the docks.” He glanced over at me. “We could make a wager on it.”</p><p>“No, thank you,” I snorted. “I have a feeling I’m going to need to be quite miserly with my coin from here on out.”</p><p>“You could always steal more, you know.” Closing the watch, he put it back in his bag before cinching it shut. Before he could get it all the way closed, however, I could see that the tall object was, in fact a sword.</p><p>“I’m not sure how good of a pickpocket I’d make, to be honest.” Grabbing my baldric, I slipped it on over my head.</p><p>“It’s not hard.” He went back to the bed and flopped down, his arms spread out. “The main thing is making sure the person is distracted an’ that you stay out of their sight. That’s why little kids are so good at it—they’re, well, little. And they’ve got quick hands.”</p><p>“No wonder the ones here in Shipwreck City seem so proficient at it,” I chuckled. I plucked up the room key from the table only to toss it over to Jack. It landed on his stomach, making him look up in confusion. “Be sure to give that back to your aunt before you go,” I told him, walking towards the door. “And, with luck, I won’t be seeing you until you sneak out of your hiding spot on that ship.”</p><p>A cheeky grin came to his lips. “Maybe not even then, dependin’ on when you get some sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>Just as Jack predicted, it took me almost entirely the rest of the hour to get down to the docks, even though I was walking fast. Approaching the <em>Sunrise</em>, I could see Captain Tremaine on the dock, overseeing the loading of a last-minute supply shipment. She glanced over at me, but her gaze quickly returned to the net filled with barrels that now dangled above the deck of her ship.</p><p>“I’m glad t’ see ye didn’t change yer mind ‘bout goin’ t’ Tortuga, Drystan,” she said, her arms crossing over her chest. To be honest, I was a bit surprised she remembered my name. “One o’ my topmen sprained ‘is shoulder in a bad fall yesterday, so ‘ere’s yer chance t’ prove yer actually good up in the riggin’.”</p><p>I nodded in understanding; one man’s misfortune would be my good luck. “Aye, captain,” I replied. “Should I stow my belongings in the crew’s quarters then?”</p><p>“Aye.” A cheeky smirk came to her lips when she glanced at me from the corner of her eye again. “I suggest ye mind yer manners an’ keep yer eyes t’ yerself while down there, by the way. I’ve lads <em>an’ </em>lasses on my crew an’ they don’t take kindly t’ folk who stare at ‘em whilst they change.”</p><p>“I’ll be sure to keep my eyes to myself, captain,” I said. “Permission to go aboard?”</p><p>She chuckled and nodded. “Permission granted.” I started to walk up the gangplank, but she called out to me. “Oh, an’ Drystan?”</p><p>“Aye, captain?”</p><p>“I ‘ope yer not afraid o’ ‘eights. Ye’ll be workin’ up on the main royal.” There was a grin on her lips—whether it was teasing or it was challenging was hard to tell.</p><p>“That’s quite alright with me, captain,” I replied before continuing up the gangplank. For most ships, the main royal was the highest sail on a ship, being located at the very top of the main mast. Being told I would be stationed so high up brought a grin to my lips.</p><p>I made my way across the deck, being careful to not get in the way of anyone already at work—especially those who were helping to lower the net full of barrels into the hold. I went below deck and, seeing the large, empty space that was the crew’s quarters, I went to go stow away my seabag. There were a couple of crewmembers down here; one was sitting in her hammock, polishing a shoe with a black-stained cloth while another was untying one end of his hammock so that it wouldn’t be in the way. Judging by how one of his arms was in a sling, I figured him to be the topman I’d be replacing for the duration of the trip.</p><p>Both looked at me as I came in. “Yer the whelp who’s goin’ t’ Tortuga then?” questioned the man.</p><p>“Aye, I am.”</p><p>He approached me before circling around me, looking me over and judging me. “Ye don’t look like much. An’ yer young. Ye should be swabbin’ the deck—not tendin’ t’ the main royal.”</p><p>“Ah, put a cork in it, Jacoby,” the woman said, her tone a bit irritated. I also noticed that her accent, beyond the semi-slurred enunciation that many of the people in Shipwreck City had, was one I didn’t recognize. Given her olive skin, though, I thought she might be from somewhere near the Mediterranean Ocean. “Ignore him, lad. He’s just irritable because he’s been ordered t’ only do light duty work ‘til his shoulder heals up.” She offered me a somewhat friendly smile. “Names Gizem. I’m the cook for this rabble o’ dolts. An’ the cantankerous one o’er there is Jacoby, my husband.”</p><p>I couldn’t help but chuckle at the way she described the crew and how Jacoby blew a raspberry at her. “Emil Drystan,” I replied.</p><p>“Drystan?” Jacoby repeated, his brow raised. “Sailed under a Captain Drystan once. Captain Drystan…Crunn, I think his name was. Ye’ve any relationship t’ him?”</p><p>My stomach lurched somewhat at this information; he had sailed under my uncle. But I couldn’t tell him that. Not only could it put my family at risk, but it could put <em>me </em>at risk if Jacoby didn’t have the best of relationships with my uncle.</p><p>“No, never heard of him,” I answered instead. I walked further into the area, looking for a good spot to store my seabag, sword, and boots.</p><p>Gizem snorted. “Just because the lad shares a name with the bloke don’t mean they’re related, Jacoby. The name’s not even in the same spot.”</p><p>Jacoby dismissively waved his hand before moving to leave the area. “Ye’ll want t’ get on deck soon, whelp,” he called over. “Cap’n’s goin’ t’ want t’ have the sails set as soon as we clear the tunnel.”</p><p>“This ship doesn’t get towed?” I asked, my brow rising. The only way in and out of Shipwreck Cove was through a narrow tunnel that was hard to navigate properly; most ships remained anchored outside the caldera with the crews coming through in longboats. Or, often times, they were anchored outside because they were simply too big. Others, though, let themselves be towed in by longboats.</p><p>Gizem shook her head. “Nay. Cap’n Tremaine’s sailed through that tunnel so many times, she could guide us threw with her eyes shut,” she explained. “We use the sweeps t’ propel us through, though.”</p><p>I nodded in understanding as I knelt down. I had found a spot for my belongings that was both out of the way and somewhat hidden. “That’ll be interesting to see. I’ve never actually seen sweeps used before.”</p><p>“Eh, once you’ve seen them used once, you’re good t’ go for the rest o’ your life.” As I pulled off my baldric, I could feel her eyes on me. “Good t’ see you know how t’ use a sword. There’s a chance you may get t’ use it before we reach Tortuga.”</p><p>My brow rose and I looked over my shoulder. “Really?” I set my seabag over my sword before standing upright once more.</p><p>“Aye. There’re two trading routes between here an’ there that are fairly busy this time o’ year.” She held up her shoe, inspecting the polishing job. Apparently deeming it unacceptable, she dipped the cloth into a bowl before beginning to rub the shoe again. “You ever take part in a lootin’, lad?”</p><p>Shaking my head, I kicked off one of my boots. “Not unless you count being the one looted,” I replied with a chuckle. “I was part of a merchant crew that got attacked. Rather than get set adrift, I chose to stay and become a pirate.”</p><p>Amused by my answer, she glanced up at me again. “An’ what role did you play on the merchant ship? Swabbie? Cook’s helper? Cabin boy?”</p><p>“Topman,” I replied.</p><p>At that, she frowned slightly. “Seriously?” I nodded, my other boot getting kicked off as well. “Huh. We all thought you had just said that t’ try and look tough for the cap’n.” She then laughed, a smirk on her lips. “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough if you’re tryin’ too hard to lie or not, now won’t we?”</p><p>“Aye, we will,” I replied, hiding the bit of irritation I was beginning to feel. ‘It’s understandable,’ I told myself. ‘I’m still young yet—most sailors my age are still swabs, powder monkeys, or able-bodied sailors. Just take it in stride, Emil…’</p><p>Taking my leave of the crew’s quarters, I was just about to head back up the stairs when I saw a flash of white in the corner of my eye. My brows furrowing, I turned to look only to see the unmistakable face of Jack peeking out from behind a crate filled with pineapples. He gave me a small wave before motioning for me to go away.</p><p>Doing as ordered, I climbed the stairs and emerged on deck in time to see the gangplank being pulled up. The other riggers were starting to ascend the ratlines and, as such, I moved to do the same. It was a long climb to the top, especially since the shrouds on this ship were steeper than what I was used to. By the time I had reached the main royal, the ship was pulling away from the dock and moving towards the entrance of the tunnel and I was breathing a bit hard. I stole a glance down at the deck; Tremaine was watching us. Or, rather, she was watching me, wanting to make sure I lived up to my claim.</p><p>There was only one other person this far up with me; a man in his mid-thirties by the look of it. “So, yer the new kid,” he said, his voice gruff. “Name’s Anthony.”</p><p>“Emil,” I said with an acknowledging nod.</p><p>“I’m impressed yeh made it all the way up here, kid,” he said, leaning over the spar so he could see which sails had already been set. Normally, sails would get set bottom to top. “Most folk get lightheaded the moment they realize they’re this high up or start gettin’ nauseous thanks t’ the ship’s movements.”</p><p>“Thankfully, heights don’t bother me,” I replied with a small laugh. “And we’ll have to see about my stomach; the ships I’ve worked on before didn’t have masts this high.”</p><p>He nodded in understanding. “Well, yeh’ll learn soon enough if yer stomach can handle it. Once we’re out on the open ocean, it won’t be nearly as smooth as it is now.”</p><p>“I believe it.” As Anthony leaned over to start undoing knots, I copied him.</p><p>I was in the middle of unwinding the rope from around the sail when we were suddenly engulfed by blackness; we had entered the tunnel. The sudden lack of light took a few seconds for my eyes to get used to, but once they adjusted, I could make out the silhouettes of the spar, some ropes, and Anthony. He said nothing, so I continued working; it was only slightly tricky, locating the right ropes I needed. From below, the sound of the sweeps as they cut through the water echoed around us, sounding almost eerie and out of sync with the waves lapping against the walls of the tunnel.</p><p>“There, all set.” I stood upright, holding onto the spar for a bit of help with balancing. Just in time, too, as the exit of the tunnel was fast approaching. Within just a few minutes, we were sailing into daylight once again and I was rapidly blinking my eyes.</p><p>Anthony looked over at me, inspecting the work I had done. “Good job, kid,” he said before moving to start climbing down. “But we’ll see how well yeh really do later when we have t’ furl the sails back up.” At that, he laughed, the sound being more akin to a loud, harsh wheeze than an actual laugh.</p><p>While I waited for him to climb down, I looked out at the horizon. A smile came to my lips and I took in a deep breath of the crisp sea air. ‘Finally,’ I thought. ‘I’m back out where I belong.’</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Captain Tremaine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first four days at sea passed by in a bit of a blur. It hadn’t been very hard for me to adapt to life aboard the <em>Sunrise</em>; it was nearly identical to how it had been on the <em>Wanderlust</em>. The only differences being that the ship was quite a bit larger and I had a friend stowed away somewhere.</p><p>I hadn’t seen Jack since the day we left port which, I suppose, was a good thing. It meant he wasn’t getting himself into trouble. I did worry about him a bit, though—What was he using for food? For water? What was he doing when he had to relieve himself?</p><p>‘I suppose those are things I should be glad I don’t have to know about,’ I told myself as I laid in my hammock. ‘Though, it still surprises me that pirates have an age limit on sailing. I can understand why, though, given how dangerous things can be.’</p><p>Around me, the snores, grunts, and sleep-addled murmurs of the crew filled the air, occasionally punctuated by the loud ‘blap’ or squeaky whistle of someone farting. This crew was, by far, much louder than the crew of the <em>Wanderlust</em>, making it a bit hard to get to sleep at times.</p><p>This, sadly, was one of those times.</p><p>And what really didn’t help was the dull ache in my upper thigh from where I had been smacked, quite hard, by a belaying pin. Being out at sea meant plenty of downtime, so one of the activities the crew did to keep boredom at bay was by sparring one another. Not only did it keep them in practice for when it came time to attack a ship, but it also kept the crew fit (as if climbing the rigging and hauling on ropes for a few hours every day wasn’t enough).</p><p>Before going against a few of the crewmembers, I thought I had been quite decent when it came to sword fighting. As it turns out, however, I was quite decent at <em>polite </em>sword-fighting, but I had a ways to go in learning the underhanded tricks and maneuvers used by pirates. It seemed like anything went when it came to fighting a pirate, as they would throw punches, try to kick your feet out from under you, and use anything around them to help them win the fight.</p><p>Including belaying pins, which made surprisingly good clubs.</p><p>Unable to get comfortable because of my leg, I carefully rolled out of my hammock (luckily, I was in a bottom hammock, so I didn’t have to worry about falling on anyone) and stood upright. There wasn’t much in the way of light as I made my way towards the stairs—just a couple of lanterns hanging from the ceiling—but I was able to make it across the room with relative ease.</p><p>I climbed the stairs and came out on deck. It was fairly dark out here as well, though the stars and half-moon offered enough light to keep the deck lit. I wasn’t alone up here; there was a handful of crewmembers awake and wandering about, making sure the ship was continuing to sail smoothly while everyone else slept. Because of this, I went over to the railing near the forwardmost part of the deck in order to stay out of the way. Then, looking around and finding that no one was paying me any heed, I hopped over the railing and fell just a few feet onto the beak of the ship.</p><p>A small, relieved sigh left my mouth as I felt the spray of the ocean against my legs. As much as I wanted to hope over the edge and dive into the ocean’s depths, I resisted the urge and leaned back against the wall, my hands tucked behind me. I would have to be content with just feeling the spray for now.</p><p>While I stood there, breathing the air deep into my lungs, I noticed that there was a slight heaviness in the air. The ocean, too, felt ever so slightly rougher than normal. “Rain’s coming,” I quietly said aloud to myself. “Probably six or seven hours out…”</p><p>“Quite a specific guess yer makin’ lad.”</p><p>My eyes shot open and, looking up, I saw Captain Tremaine staring down at me in amusement. Before I could say anything, she hopped over the railing, joining me down on the beak. She was surprisingly spry for someone her age; I hoped that, if I lived to be as old as her, I would be just as agile.</p><p>“I see I’m not the only one who enjoys the solace o’ the ship’s bow,” she smiled, tucking her hands into the pockets of her coat while leaning back against the wall. She then crossed one ankle over the other, looking quite relaxed—as she should. This was <em>her </em>ship, after all. “What makes ye think rain’s comin’?”</p><p>“The air’s a bit heavier now than it was a few hours ago,” I explained. I wouldn’t mention the detail about the waves; that was still rather imperceptible to normal people. “That usually means rain is on the way. At least, that’s what I was taught, captain.” I made sure to not use ‘ma’am’, as Gizem had told me how much Tremaine hated that word.</p><p>Tremaine’s brow rose; whether or not she believed me, I couldn’t tell. More than likely, she didn’t. “Interesting,” she said. “How’s yer leg doin’, by the way? Roberts hit ye pretty hard earlier.”</p><p>“Hurts like hell to be honest, but I’m getting use to it.”</p><p>A bit of concern came to her features. “He hit ye <em>that </em>hard?”</p><p>“Aye, but like I said, I’m getting used to it, captain.”</p><p>“Let me see.”</p><p>My brows furrowed slightly. “Er…I’d have to drop my trousers, captain. He got me pretty far up.”</p><p>“Ye act like I ‘aven’t seen a few cocks in my life, lad,” she told me, her voice bland as hardtack. “Anyway, we’re pirates; decency’s been thrown t’ the wind.”</p><p>I cleared my throat and, not wanting to get on her bad side, I started to undo my trousers. “Thing is, captain, I don’t exactly <em>have </em>a cock.”</p><p>It was her turn to frown. “Ye <em>what</em>?”</p><p>“Don’t have a cock, captain,” I replied. “I’m a lass.” Being unused to dropping my trousers around other people, I felt thankful that, as mine fell, my shirt proved long enough to keep my bits covered. Not for long, however, as Tremaine grabbed my shirt and lifted it up enough to find that I did, indeed, lack male parts. I was thankful my face was hidden by shadow, as my cheeks had turned as red as a beet when I instinctively pushed my shirt back down.</p><p>I also hoped Jack was nowhere within hearing or sight range…</p><p>“Bloody hell…ye’ve had me convinced this whole time yer a lad,” she murmured, letting go of my shirt. Then, spotting the large, bright-red bruise on my thigh, she swore and leaned over to get a better look. “Roberts <em>did </em>get ye hard. That’s goin’ t’ be there for quite a while.” Shaking her head, she stood upright again and crossed her arms over her chest.</p><p>“It’s not the worst bruise I’ve had,” I assured her. Quickly, I pulled my trousers up and tucked my shirt back into place before doing them up. “I’ll be used to it soon enough.”</p><p>She nodded slowly, though she didn’t seem entirely convinced. “How do ye hide yer chest?” she then asked, probably figuring it best to drop the subject for now.</p><p>“I keep it bound down with bandages.” I pulled the neck of my shirt down a bit, showing her the topmost portion of the wraps. “It helps that my chest isn’t very large to begin with.”</p><p>“Hm. Ye should use wider bandages,” she said. “The thinner ones are good for short term binding, aye, but wider ones are best for long term. Keeps the pressure more evenly distributed an’ makes it less likely ye’ll get a deformed bosom. Not t’ mention, they’re quicker t’ take off when its time t’ do some bedtime frolickin’.”</p><p>Committing her words to memory and quietly laughing, I nodded. “I’ll be sure to remember that, captain. Thank you.”</p><p>She moved to lean against the wall once more. “I know what it’s like, wantin’ t’ keep yer gender under wraps—pun not intended. Yer not the first lass I’ve met whose taken on a male identity in order t’ keep themselves safe on the high seas. Hell, I did it for the first fifteen or so years I was at sea. It only came out I was a woman because I got pregnant…but by then, I was feared enough that no one tried anythin’ against me.”</p><p>I also returned to my spot against the wall, feeling the heat finally leaving my cheeks. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get that well known, captain,” I said with a small chuckle.</p><p>“Ye never know. I didn’t plan on becomin’ a feared pirate, but ‘ere I am. Also, ye don’t need t’ call me ‘cap’n’ all the time. Unlike other cap’ns, I don’t mind informal nicknames.” She snorted. “How did ye get so good at actin’ like a lad, by the way? Ye grow up on the streets or somethin’?”</p><p>“No, nothing like that. It started out with me wanting to spite my stepfather and led to my dad teaching me how to walk, talk, and act like a man.” Stealing a look at her, I could see confusion on her face.</p><p>“Yer dad’s still alive…yet ye had a stepdad?” she questioned. Divorce wasn’t a very common thing, so I didn’t blame her for her confusion.</p><p>“I’m the result of some extra-marital bedtime frolicking between him and my mother.”</p><p>She nodded in understanding, a bit amused that I had used her words from earlier. “An’ he hated yer stepdad enough t’ teach ye how t’ be a lad, hm? I suppose he also taught ye how t’ handle a sword as well?” I nodded as well. “Sounds like a bloke I’d like t’ meet. I’m surprised, though. Most dads don’t want their lil’ girls growin’ up t’ be pirates, let alone <em>male</em> pirates. I know mine didn’t.”</p><p>“Oh, he knows full well my real home has always been the sea, so he doesn’t mind that I’ve become a sailor. Not so sure how he’d react to me becoming a pirate, though…”</p><p>She snorted again. “Somethin’ tells me if he taught ye how t’ be a man, he’s not goin’ t’ mind ye turnin’ pirate.” She then pointed a finger at me as if she had suddenly remembered something. “Have ye had any cycles while at sea yet?”</p><p>“A handful, aye.”</p><p>“How do ye deal with them?”</p><p>“Er, well, they’re the reason I wear dark trousers, to be honest.”</p><p>“Alright. What ye need t’ do in addition t’ dark trousers is t’ make yerself a couple o’ long, cloth pouches. Ye stuff ‘em with bits o’ cloth yer not going t’ be usin’ again or even some grass or straw, sew it up, an’ keep it in place against ye usin’ a girdle. When ye think it’s got as much waste as it can hold, ye switch it out for a fresh one an’ wash the used one. It can be a bit tricky if yer tryin’ t’ keep yerself hidden, but it’s a lot better than bleedin’ all over yerself an’ possibly bleedin’ on somethin’ noticeable.”</p><p>I nodded in understanding, committing that to memory as well—it sounded like it would be more comfortable in the long run, too. “When you were still going around as a lad, was there anyone you trusted enough to tell the truth to? Aside from whoever got you pregnant, I mean.”</p><p>“I had a small group o’ friends who knew, though a good portion o’ them were also women,” she answered. “Took me years t’ come t’ trust them, though. When I was your age, the sea was far more dangerous place for a woman. Still is a dangerous place for us if ye can’t defend yerself well, but ye look an’ act enough like a man that ye don’t have t’ worry. Well, for the most part ye don’t have t’ worry."</p><p>My brow rose as that. “What do you mean, ‘for the most part’?”</p><p>“If ye get injured, ye best hope it’s on a limb or yer face—that is, unless yer doctor’s a woman, too. An’ ye best hope ye don’t fall into the ocean while yer on yer cycle.” She then shook a scolding finger at me. “Which is why, when ye get those pouches made, ye best be extra careful when yer cleanin’ them.”</p><p>At the thought of sharks coming in for a snack because of my cycle, I stuck my tongue out. I already didn’t like sharks—few sailors did—so this only made me dislike them more. My reaction apparently amused Tremaine, as she snorted loudly.</p><p>“Not a pretty thought, is it?” she chuckled. Shaking her head, she let out a small sigh. “I take it, then, ye’d like for me t’ keep referrin’ t’ ye as a lad?”</p><p>“That would be preferable, aye.”</p><p>She nodded. “Alright then. Now, lad, how long was it ye said it’d be until we should be expectin’ rain?”</p><p>“Six or seven hours. Maybe less, if we’re sailin’ into it.” Which we were.</p><p>“An’ your sure o’ this?”</p><p>“Aye, captain.”</p><p>Tremaine was silent for a long moment; when I looked at her, her eyes were shut and there was a contemplative look on her face. “If yer right…I’ll give ye a double ration o’ rum.”</p><p>I grinned, my brows rising. “And if I’m wrong?”</p><p>“Hm. No rum ration. Sound fair?” She grinned, her brow raised.</p><p>“You’re the captain. Whether or not I say it’s fair doesn’t matter.”</p><p>Tremaine didn’t seem to like this answer, as she reached over and gave the end of my nose a hard flick. “Bein’ cap’n doesn’t mean shite if ye don’t treat yer crew well, lad,” she scolded, watching me as I rubbed my nose. “Just because I say something’s fair don’t mean it is. Don’t let yerself be talked into unfair deals just because someone’s o’ a higher rank than ye, understand, lad? An’ this goes for people outside o’ piracy, too. Just because they got money don’t mean anythin’.”</p><p>“Understood,” I replied, my nose still stinging slightly, but not enough to be a bother.</p><p>“Good. Now, get yerself back t’ bed soon, alright? If there actually is rain comin’, that means there’s a chance o’ a storm comin’ with it. An’ if we run into a storm, yer goin’ t’ need your strength for dealin’ with the sails.” Turning around, she climbed up onto the base of the bowsprit.</p><p>“I will. I just need a little bit more fresh air before I go back.”</p><p>“Good. Yer a fairly likeable fellow an’ ye listen t’ orders real well. It’d be a shame t’ have ye fall t’ yer death because ye didn’t get enough sleep.” She gave me a small wink before pulling herself up and over the railing.</p><p>“Good to know the captain likes me,” I mumbled.</p><p>Now truly alone, I sighed and slid down the wall until I was sitting; the position put pressure on my bruise and it started to throb with pain, but I ignored it. Tremaine had given me some good advice, both in regards to being a woman at sea and to life in general. I was actually rather thankful she had brought the subject up first—even if it was in a rather embarrassing fashion.</p><p>‘Never thought I’d be ordered to drop my trousers like that,’ I thought, letting my head rest against the wall. ‘At least it was by another woman…’</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Escaping Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And thus, we enter the plotline that starts in 'Jack Sparrow: The Coming Storm'! As always, thank you for the comments! They're greatly appreciated and highly motivating ❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I was right about us sailing into rain, but it had been Tremaine who had been right about us sailing into a storm. It was strange one, though—something wasn’t right about this storm. The air felt heavier than normal and the waves didn’t seem as angry as they should have been. What was even stranger was that it felt like we were just on the very cusp of the storm—like we weren’t sailing further into it, nor was it blowing away from us.</p>
<p>It just felt…<em>weird </em>and it made the tips of my fingers tingle.</p>
<p>If there was one good thing about this storm, it was that the wind was blowing us in the direction we needed to be sailing. We got the sails arranged in such a fashion that we were kept at a steady nine knots and, for nearly two whole days we sailed at this speed. This was a bit dangerous on our part, as the choppy seas made it difficult to spot any upcoming reefs or sandbars. Those of us high up in the rigging made sure to keep our sharpest eyes out, though, and we were able to avoid any trouble.</p>
<p>On the morning of the third day, things began to change; the storm was finally getting worse and yet, it was only the parts of the storm <em>above </em>the water that got worse. While the sea was still quite choppy, the waves weren’t lifting us high into the air, nor were they threatening to capsize us as they should have been.</p>
<p>By midday, Tortuga was in sight and, a few hours after that, the ship had dropped anchor at the dock; the storm has almost entirely fizzled out and it was only rain that poured from the sky now. Exhausted and soaking wet thanks to our efforts up in the rigging, we all just wanted to get on land and get inside a tavern for some warm food and strong drink among other things. But there was still work that needed done, namely making sure the sails were furled tightly and making sure the mooring lines were secured around the pilings of the dock.</p>
<p>Despite the sails being wrapped up tight, I could barely make out what was happening down on the deck thanks to the sheer amount of rain rolling down my face my face. At one point when I glanced down, however, I spotted a familiar speck sneaking his way off the ship.</p>
<p>‘That’s pretty bold of him, sneaking off when everyone’s on deck like that,’ I thought. ‘But I suppose it’s actually the perfect time to do such; everyone’s busy or getting blinded by the rain, after all.’</p>
<p>Once all the chores were finished, we were finally allowed to either go ashore or rest below decks. Most of the crew chose to go ashore, of course, though I chose to stay below deck for a little while. Since I wasn’t an actual member of the crew, I really didn’t need to stay, but I wanted to make sure the hammock I had been using got put away and that my seabag was closed as tight as possible.</p>
<p>“I’m shocked yer not on land yet, lad.” I looked up from rolling the hammock into a cloth log, surprised to see Tremaine leaning against one of the wooden supports. Like me, she was soaking wet from having been out on the deck. “I would have expected ye t’ have been the first one off.”</p>
<p>“I wanted to make sure I got this put away,” I said, giving the half-rolled hammock a small shake.</p>
<p>She chuckled, her brow rising. “I think yer the only person on this ship who actually puts their ‘ammock away.” Waiting until I was finished with my task, she left her spot against the pillar and came over to me. “Yer a good worker, lad. If ever yer lookin’ for work in the future an’ I’m around, come find me. I’ll hire ye on in a heartbeat.”</p>
<p>Then, reaching inside her jacket, she produced a small bottle—it looked to be half the size of the usual sized rum bottle. “An’ here’s the rum owed t’ ye for bein’ right ‘bout this weather. I know it don’t look like much, but it’s undiluted rum, so drink it sparingly, lad.”</p>
<p>My brow rose as I took it from her; I could see that there was barely a gap between the top of the rum and the bottom of the cork. It was most definitely more than a double ration’s worth of the stuff. Instead of pointing that out, however, I merely said, “Thank you, captain.”</p>
<p>“Keep my offer in mind,” she told me, a small grin on her lips. “I’ll be here another two days—ye know, just in case ye get sick o’ yer family right quick.” Turning, she left the area, heading back up the stairs.</p>
<p>‘Well, that’s nice,’ I thought, going over to my belongings. After I got the rum safely tucked away in my bag, I slipped my baldric over my head before pulling on my boots. Then, grabbing my bag, I took my leave of the <em>Sunrise</em>.</p>
<p>‘Working under pirates isn’t much different from working underneath a law-abiding captain.’ I carefully made my way down the gangplank, not wanting to slip on the wet wood. ‘The crew pecking order is a bit different, but I can definitely get used to it…Though, I suppose not all pirates are as kind as Tremaine. I would imagine a fair few can be quite cruel…’</p>
<p>I was halfway down the dock when I felt someone grab my arm. My hand reached for my sword as I turned, but a sigh of relief left my mouth when I saw that it was just Jack—who was wearing an apologetic, yet still cheeky, grin. Being that he was soaking wet, his clothes clung to his body and he had various bits of hair sticking to parts of his face. He almost reminded me of a sopping wet street dog.</p>
<p>“I was wonderin’ when you were going to be coming off o’ that ship,” he said.</p>
<p>“I had to clean up my area,” I replied, beginning to walk again.</p>
<p>“Clean up your area?” he repeated, his brow rising.</p>
<p>“You know—put my hammock away. Make sure I didn’t leave anything behind.” I shook my head and adjusted my bag. “I’m glad to see you didn’t get caught while stowing away, though it was a wee bit risky of you to sneak off the ship in broad daylight like that.”</p>
<p>He shrugged, the grin still on his lips. “It’s stormin’ and everyone was distracted. When the opportune moment comes along, it’s best not to waste it.” Looking up at me, his brow rose slightly. “So, how was it workin’ for Tremaine?”</p>
<p>“Not much different from working under my previous captains. She seemed to like me more than the last two, though, which was a bit nice. She even said I’m welcome to join the crew if ever I’m looking for one.” I almost stumbled sideways as Jack nudged me with his elbow.</p>
<p>“Maybe she was tryin’ to get you to share her bed for the duration o’ the trip an’ you were just too dense to notice?” he teased, playfully winking.</p>
<p>I snorted loudly. “I can promise you, she was <em>not </em>trying to get me into her bed.” He brought us to a halt at the end of the docks, where he ducked behind a stack of empty crates.</p>
<p>A few seconds later, I heard him starting to swear. “Where did it go?!”</p>
<p>“Where did what go?”</p>
<p>“<em>My </em>seabag!” He came out from behind the stack, a frantic look on his face. “I put it back there so I could go an’ wait for you, but now it’s gone!” He started turning around and around, looking at the people who were in the immediate area. Then, suddenly, he pointed. “There it is! That bloke’s got my bag!”</p>
<p>My eyes followed the line of his arm to find a behemoth of a man in the distance; he had to have been at <em>least </em>seven feet tall and there was no way he weighed less than two-and-a-half hundred pounds. And, sure enough, there was a worn, white seabag draped over his shoulder.</p>
<p>Something about this man felt <em>off</em>, though. And it wasn’t just because of his size. My fingers, which hadn’t stopped tingling ever since we entered the storm, were tingling even more now. Part of me wanted to go investigate, but the more cautious part of my mind told me to stay away.</p>
<p>“I…think your bag is as good as lost, mate,” I told Jack.</p>
<p>“Oh, no it’s <em>not</em>! I have things I need in that bag an’ I’m not about to let that man walk off with it!” He started to storm forward with every intention of going up to the behemoth and demanding his bag back. And, if I hadn’t grabbed the back of his vest, he <em>would </em>have done just that.</p>
<p>“Jack, be reasonable,” I told him, my brow raised as I dragged him backwards. “You can’t just walk up to a man that size and expect him to give you back your bag. He’d throw you halfway across the island if you did that.”</p>
<p>Thought he still wore a bit of a pout, he sighed and nodded. “You’re right. A situation like this requires tact and stealth.”</p>
<p>“<em>Exactly</em>.” I let go of his vest. “We’ll follow him, see where he goes, and from there, we’ll come up with a plan.”</p>
<p>“Then let’s get going before we lose him!” He grabbed my wrist and started to tug me forward.</p>
<p>“Lose a guy his size? That’s not likely.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We tailed the man through a good portion of the city before we saw him duck into a tavern called the Faithful Bride. The building, like many others in the city, was of Spanish design and looked like it could use a fresh coat of whitewash. It also didn’t look to be built terribly well, as a gust of wind made the walls tremble.</p>
<p>Despite this, when we peered through a smoke-and-dirt stained window, we could see that the place was quite full. Almost everyone inside was male (or looked male) and, rather unusually, they were fairly peaceful looking. The behemoth sat nearer to the back of the place; the tankard he drank from looked small compared to his large hand.</p>
<p>“Here’s the plan,” Jack said, his voice a bit quieter. I could only <em>just </em>hear him over the rain. “We go in, you saunter on up t’ the bar an’ get a drink—you’ll no doubt draw some attention t’ yourself since you’re so young. While you do that, I sneak around t’ the back o’ the place, creep my way up behind Mister Eats-His-Veggies, an’ steal my bag back. Then I’ll scamper on back outside an’ you get a good drink o’ rum. Savvy?” He smirked, a mischief twinkle in his eye.</p>
<p>“And what happens if you get caught?”</p>
<p>He opened his mouth to speak as if he already had an answer at the ready, but his expression suddenly went from confident to a bit confused then to contemplative. “<em>You’ll</em> figure somethin’ out, I’m sure,” he said after a moment, the smirk coming back to his lips. He clapped me on the arm and started to turn. “Now come on—let’s go get my bag back.”</p>
<p>With little choice left to me, I followed him towards the entrance of the tavern. Rather than go in first, however, he waited for me to step in before trailing after—more than likely so he could hide behind me. And he had been right: Upon entering the tavern, many of the patrons looked up at me, their brows rising as they watched me head over to the bar. I could hear some of them muttering about how I was too young to be in there, but, for the most part, I ignored them.</p>
<p>A girl popped up from behind the counter; she was about the same age as Jack and had auburn hair. “What’ll it be for ye, lad?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Some rum, if you please, love,” I replied, giving her a smile.</p>
<p>“A bit young for rum, aren’t ye?” she chuckled, her brow rising. As I reached into my vest for my coin purse, she pulled out a tankard and moved to fill it from one of the many large barrels behind her.</p>
<p>A playful pout came to my lips. “I’m nearly twenty; I think that’s plenty old enough to drink rum. Especially on a day like tonight, where it could warm my belly and my bones.”</p>
<p>She smiled as she turned around, setting the tankard on the counter and sliding it across to me. “Nearly twenty, huh? And ye don’t even have a beard yet?”</p>
<p>“Sadly, a smooth jaw runs in the family.” I set a shilling down and slid it over to her. “The only person who could grow any hair on their face was my Aunt Matilda.” While most of this was a lie—my father had quite the beard, as did my uncle—the bit about my late Aunt Matilda was not. She practically had a full-on mustache.</p>
<p>The girl giggled as she picked up the coin. “I take it she was the envy of yer family, then?”</p>
<p>“Aye, she was. Sadly, she took the secret of how she grew facial hair to her grave.” Turning so that my side was resting against the counter, I took a drink of rum while giving the room a cursory look for Jack. The alcohol burned my throat as I swallowed it, but when it hit my stomach, it started to fill me with a pleasant warmth.</p>
<p>Not seeing Jack just yet, I turned to speak with the barmaid again only to find that she had gone out onto the floor to tend to patrons. I shrugged and took another drink—and then I mentally scolded myself. There was no food in my stomach, so I needed to pace myself, lest I get drunk.</p>
<p>Turning a bit more, I once again glanced around the room. This time, I did spot Jack: He was a few feet from the behemoth’s chair, crouched low to the ground. I watched as he slowly extended his hand out towards the sack, which was on the floor in front of the chair. My lungs started to burn; I had been unknowingly holding my breath as I watched him.</p>
<p>Just as I inhaled a fresh breath, the behemoth moved. With his tankard still held against his lips, he stood up and turned around. Looking down, he saw Jack, who quickly put on an innocent smile.</p>
<p>‘Shit,’ I thought, setting my tankard down. Jack’s mouth was moving, but I couldn’t tell what he was saying.</p>
<p>Evidently, whatever he said hadn’t been to the behemoth’s taste, as the man let out a howl of anger and swung his tankard at Jack’s head. Jack, being much smaller and nimbler, grabbed the sack from under the chair and hopped out of the way in one fluid movement. Because of this, though, the behemoth’s tankard slammed into the back of a different pirate’s head.</p>
<p>And that’s how the barfight started.</p>
<p>In less than a minute, the tavern was a flurry of activity. Pirates were punching, kicking, and biting one another, regardless if they were friends or foes. Some had drawn their swords and were doing their best to hold a duel in the middle of such a crowded area. Others were trying to knock their opponent out with the butt of their pistols. And all of them were blocking my view of Jack.</p>
<p>Unable to see, I crawled up onto the bar in order to get a better vantage point. I made sure to keep a firm hold on my seabag; the last thing I wanted was for it to get stolen, too. As I looked around, I began questioning why in the world I had agreed to this plan. But then I spotted the behemoth, who Jack was scurrying away from as best he could.</p>
<p>‘The room is too crowded to get to them,’ I thought. My brow then rose, my eyes having spotted a potential pathway. ‘I’d have to make my way around towards the back door, but I should be able to reach them before the behemoth kills Jack…’</p>
<p>Hopping down off the bar, I adjusted my bag and started to make my way around the back of the room. There was a flash and a boom that sounded like thunder, but it could very well have been someone firing a pistol off. As the walls of the building shuddered, however, I knew that the weather outside was getting worse which made me frown in confusion.</p>
<p>‘That’s not right…the storm had died out earlier. How is it picking back up? Unless…’</p>
<p>I glanced over at the behemoth, who looked extremely angry as he snatched up a bottle filled with rum. It was the I noticed the tingling in my fingers had grown more intense. My eyes narrowed.</p>
<p>Sadly, I didn’t have time to think about him for much longer. I was pulled from my thoughts when I saw a fist flying for my face. Leaning out of the way, I quickly brought my leg up and kicked the bloke between the legs. He fell to the ground, clutching at his family jewels.</p>
<p>“Hope you weren’t planning on using that tonight,” I said as I stepped over him.</p>
<p>I squeezed my way past a few more men who, thankfully, were too engaged with one another to notice me. The behemoth was just a few yards from me; a few yards ahead of him was Jack, his back turned to the giant as he looked for an escape route.</p>
<p>“Shit,” I muttered.</p>
<p>Not caring anymore, I darted forward, shoving people out of my way with little care. I had been wanting to avoid doing such a thing, lest I become the target of multiple people’s wrath. I was even with the behemoth now, but he didn’t see me. His focus was on Jack, who he was getting ready to hit with the bottle of rum.</p>
<p>Drawing my sword, I ran forward. As the behemoth brought the bottle down towards Jack’s head, I swung upwards with my blade. The sound of breaking glass filled my ears and, a second later, I was showered with broken glass and cheap rum.</p>
<p>He growled in a mixture of anger and frustration. “Out o’ my way, lad,” he snarled. “You’re not my target.” Now that I was getting a good look at him, I could see that he had some sort of tattoo across his chest, but what it was, I couldn’t tell—I just knew it was done in an angular style I didn’t recognize. Looking at it, however, made the entirety of both my hands start to tingle. And his eyes, though they were grey, almost seemed to reflect the storm outside—getting lighter as lightning struck before growing dark again when the thunder rumbled.</p>
<p>‘He has to be the reason for this storm,’ I thought. Out loud, I said, “No, I’m not. But I <em>am </em>indebted to him, so you’ll have to go through me first.” Stealing a quick glance over my shoulder, I could see that Jack was being hurriedly dragged away by the barmaid. ‘That makes things a bit easier…’</p>
<p>The man roared and charged at me; I simply stepped to the side and stuck my leg out. Unable to stop himself in time, he tripped and went flying forward. He fell headlong into a group of pirates beating the snot out of each other. After hitting the wall, he fell to his knees—what happened after, I couldn’t tell, because the group jumped on him. In fact, a good portion of the fighting around me stopped in order to either watch or join in with taking down the behemoth.</p>
<p>Glancing around, I slowly started to make my way back through the crowd. Slowly because I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself and because I had no idea where the girl had taken Jack. As hard as I tried, however, I did not go unnoticed.</p>
<p>The shoulder of my vest was grabbed and I was suddenly yanked sideways by a middle-aged man missing half his teeth. “Yer the one who brought that troublemaker in here!” he growled, pointing a broken bottleneck at my face.</p>
<p>“I assure you, he very much brought himself in here,” I countered, my eyes glancing between his face and the sharp glass.</p>
<p>The man growled at me and made to thrust the bottle into my face. With a quick flick of my wrist, though, I knocked it out of his hand with the tip of my sword. I then pressed the blade against his throat—not hard enough to cut, but enough that it did hurt. His eyes widened in shock.</p>
<p>“I would let go now if I were you,” I warned him, my voice more serious. He swallowed hard and let go of my vest, both hands rising in surrender. “Smart man.” Keeping my sword pointed at him, I took a few steps backwards before allowing myself to turn around.</p>
<p>No one purposefully stopped me while I made my way towards the back door. A few blokes fell across my path, but they either rolled out of the way to rejoin the fray or I hopped over them. A sigh of relief would have left my mouth when I slipped out the door, but I only swore as a gust of wind blew rain right into my face.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Sword—er, Scabbard—of Cortes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As mentioned in my two hobbit fics, I'll be taking a short hiatus to try and replenish my chapter buffers for my various fics~ For now, though, enjoy the proper introduction to Arabella Smith, aka Bell!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>'There is definitely nothing natural about this storm,' I thought, my nose scrunching up as I looked up at the sky. Turning my back to the wind, I could see a pair of human silhouettes ahead of me; the shorter one had the taller pinned against the wall, a scolding finger pointed up at them. 'Seems Jack's getting himself a tongue lashing…' I started to walk towards them.</p><p>"That was Captain Torrents, ye idiot!" the barmaid was practically shouting when I approached. Whether she was yelling because of her anger or so she could be heard above the gale was hard to tell. "The most notorious pirate this side of Hispaniola!"</p><p>"The name's not ringin' any bells, love," Jack told her, his hands raised in defense. A large grin spread across his face when he saw me approaching. "Ah! Drystan, there you are!" he chirped. "I was hopin' you'd get out of there alive an' well!" He then paused and, reaching over, pulled a piece of glass from my shoulder. "You're going t' want t' comb your hair later, mate. You're covered in glass."</p><p>"I hadn't noticed," I replied, my voice much dryer than anything around us.</p><p>The barmaid then shook her head. "I can't believe yer friends with this little crook," she said, her hands on her hips.</p><p>"I am <em>not </em>a crook!" Jack argued. "That man stole <em>my </em>sack—I merely stole it <em>back</em>. I'll show you." Pursing his lips, he hopped up onto a barrel and, opening the sack, shoved his arm in. "For instance, this here is my—" His brows furrowed as he pulled out a candle. "…Candle? I don't remember packin' a candle…" Shaking his head, he dropped the candle on the ground and shoved his hand back in.</p><p>"Surprise, surprise," the barmaid replied, her voice just as dry as mine had been. The three of us cringed when the next thing Jack pulled out looked to be old underwear (I really hoped they were recently washed, but it was hard to tell thanks to the dingy color of the fabric). The third item he pulled out was most definitely an old, desiccated rat. Both the underwear and the rat he dropped to the ground, horror and disgust on his face.</p><p>"No, no, <em>no</em>! This is all wrong!" he groaned, continuing to go through 'his' sack. I could tell he was getting frustrated; everything he pulled out that <em>wasn't </em>his quickly ended up in the mud.</p><p>Shaking her head, the barmaid looked up at me. "Arabella, by the way," she told me. "Arabella Smith." She held her hand out, intending shake mine in return.</p><p>Instead of shaking her hand, I gave her a polite bow and kissed the back of her hand. Admittedly, I had to bite back a grin when her cheeks turned as red as beets. "I'm Emil Drystan," I said upon standing upright. "And he's Jack Sparrow. I apologize on his behalf. Someone truly <em>did</em> steal his seabag and we were both certain it had been that Captain—Torrents, you said his name was?"</p><p>Arabella cleared her throat as she nodded. "Yes, Captain Torrents. I'm sure ye could see just <em>why </em>he's the most notorious pirate this side of Hispaniola." She shook her head, sighing as she crossed her arms. "And I'm sorry for going wild on yer friend. It's just—my dad's temper is bad enough as it is and, now that there's a massive barfight going on, he's going t' be in a frightful state now." She sighed again, pushing a stray lock of wet hair behind her ear. "He's going to have to spend at <em>least </em>a week repairing the place."</p><p>I winced slightly at this information; the place had been in a state of disrepair already, so knowing that it was, more than likely, getting even more destroyed made me feel a touch guilty. Just as I was about to apologize to her, however, Jack interrupted.</p><p>"My knife, my box, my stash of coins…it's all <em>gone</em>!" he cried. Turning the bag over, he gave it a harsh shake, emptying it of the rest of its contents—which, truthfully, wasn't very much. I couldn't tell if it was pebbles, seeds, or lint that came falling out, but as he gave the sack another shake, something large and heavy sounding fell down into the mud with a 'splat'. "What the…?" He hopped down from the barrel and picked up whatever the item was.</p><p>"A scabbard?" I questioned, my brow rising. And one without a sword in it, either. Why would Torrents have a swordless scabbard in his bag…?</p><p>When Jack realized that it was empty, he threw it back on the ground. "Blasted pirates!"</p><p>"Says the pirate," I quietly retorted.</p><p>Arabella stooped down and plucked the scabbard up off the ground, my comment having gone unheard by her. As she looked the thing over, I peeked over her shoulder at it; though it was covered in mud and bore many scratches, I could see glints of gold and silver worked into the leather. "No…it couldn't be…" she murmured. "One of ye—get me some light," she ordered.</p><p>Something about her tone made Jack and I hop to it. He retrieved the candle from the mud and cleaned it off while I untied my sack and reached my hand down into it. Pulling out my tinderbox, I retrieved the flint and steel from it before lighting the candle—which took some work thanks to its wet wick. Once we got it going, though, we huddled together to keep the wind from blowing the little flame out and Jack shielded it from the rain with his hand.</p><p>Using her apron to wipe the mud away, Arabella brought the scabbard closer to the weak light. We were just barely able to see words engraved into the leather as well as the reddish gold image of a feathered serpent. My brows furrowed as I saw this image; its midsection matched the tattoo I had seen on Torrents' chest.</p><p>"This says 'Belonging to Hernan'," Arabella said, pointing out the words to me and Jack. Her eyes then widened as she registered the meaning of the words. "This is the cursed sword that gave Cortes the power to conquer the Aztec empire!" She looked up at the two of us, excitement in her eyes. My own eyes were wide as well; I had heard tales of the Sword of Cortes when I was younger, but I always thought it had been just that—tales. "Legend has it that the sword made him unstoppable in battle and gave him strange powers—like being able to convincing the Aztecs that he was a god—"</p><p>"To be fair, love, anyone with enough wit and charm could convince someone they're a god," I said.</p><p>She ignored me. "The Aztecs believed the god, Quetzalcoatl, would come back to them someday and this sword is how Cortes convinced them that that's who he was." She brushed another lock of wet hair from her face. "The legends also say that, without the scabbard, the sword's power is greatly limited. It played a part in Cortes's downfall. 'The loss o' the scabbard will cause kingdoms to scab over', the saying goes." She carefully turned the thing over in her hands, letting the meager candlelight illuminate the jewels and worn leather along its back. A shudder coursed through her body. "It's supposedly made from the guts of Aztec sacrifices."</p><p>I leaned away, making a sound of disgust.</p><p>Jack carefully picked the scabbard up with his thumb and forefinger. "Delightful," he muttered, his nose scrunched up. "But how did it get in Captain Seven-Foot-Beastie's possession?"</p><p>"I overheard some men talking earlier—talking about the sword. A pirate named Stone-Eyed Sam was the one who had it last," she told us.</p><p>Recognition came to Jack's face. "What, the pirate captain? The scourge o' Panama?" he questioned, brows furrowing.</p><p>"Clearly, I need a primer on famous pirates," I muttered under my breath. I hadn't heard of Torrents <em>or </em>Stone-Eyed Sam before now.</p><p>"Years ago, Stone-Eyed Sam took the sword and sheath to an isolated island, where he made himself king. No one knows what happened to him or to his loyal subjects," Arabella explained. "I'm fairly certain this has something to do with his downfall, given that the sheath is here and the sword is not."</p><p>Jack and I exchanged glances—glances that told us we were both thinking the same thing: That we <em>needed</em> to get that sword. It would be dangerous of course; The Sword of Cortez was one of the greatest treasures in the whole of the Caribbean. I could now understand why Torrents was ready to kill Jack when others would have simply smacked him upside the head or punched him in the gut as punishment.</p><p>The thing was, we couldn't exactly put it back—Torrents would kill us both and it'd be too dangerous to send Arabella back in there with it.</p><p>Arabella must have been on a similar track of thought, as she said, "You're both in big trouble. Stealing somethin' like this from a pirate like Torrents? Ye two need to leave Tortuga immediately—or ye'll be dead men." Shaking her head, she turned to head inside.</p><p>To my great surprise, Jack reached out and grabbed her arm. "Wait. Come with us," he told her, taking her by surprise as well. "You obviously know far more about this sort o' legendary stuff than we do—"</p><p>"As well as the pirates local to these waters," I added.</p><p>He nodded. "And if anyone saw you helping me back there, you're a dead man, too." He paused. "Well, woman." He paused again. "Well, girl." He cleared his throat. "Not t' mention, think o' the freedom that would be ours if we had that sword. Freedom <em>an' </em>power."</p><p>Arabella was quiet for some minutes, though Jack and I could tell that she was more than a little happy to have such an offer made to her. "Well…I don't really have any other plans," she at last answered. "Besides working at the Bride for the rest of my life or until I'm married." A heavy sigh left her mouth. "Or until dad dies from the drink," she muttered, her tone turning a bit angry. "I've had little—really nothing—here since a nasty pirate sacked the Bride last year. The git took my mum with him." She shook her head. "A big, fierce, ugly one, too. I do miss her, though…me mum. Dad and I are sure she's…" Her voice trailed off and her gaze fell to the ground for a moment.</p><p>Then, shaking her head again, she looked up at me and Jack. "All right. I'm coming with ye. But we play by <em>my </em>rules, hear? No stealing from anyone—pirates or otherwise—along the way."</p><p>Jack and I pursed our lips a bit at this, but we both nodded. So much for learning the art of piracy…</p><p>She ignored our pouts. "I know the perfect boat to use, too: An old, abandoned one in Salty Cove."</p><p>We looked at each other before shrugging. "Sorry, lass. We're new here, remember? Neither of us has any idea where that is," I said. "And I don't think it'd be the safest of ideas for either of us to go in there and ask one of those 'lovely' blokes."</p><p>She thought for a moment before pulling a wooden hairpin from her hair. My brow rose as we watched her then tear a bit of cloth from her apron. Next, she held the hairpin in the flame of the candle—which Jack was still holding—until it started to burn, at which point she blew out the flame. Holding the cloth against the wall, she used the now-charcoal end of the hairpin to draw a rudimentary map for us.</p><p>"That was quite resourceful of you," I chuckled, "though if you had asked, I have a writing kit in my bag."</p><p>Jack dismissively waved his hand at me. "Shush, Drystan. We should count ourselves lucky t' have such a resourceful mate on board with us." As he spoke, he leaned towards Arabella slightly, a grin on his lips.</p><p>Her brow rose and I rolled my eyes. "Call me resourceful, but I'm <em>not </em>either of ye's 'mate'. We're business partners." She added a finishing touch to the map: A small X where our destination was. She then handed the rudimentary map to me; I folded it up and tucked it away inside my vest. "Here. Ye two lay low for three days," she instructed. "I'll gather supplies—drinking water and food. Meet me at the boat towards dusk in three nights' time."</p><p>His grin broadening, Jack gave her a small bow. "Thank you, my lady,"</p><p>This time, Arabella rolled her eyes and I lifted my brow. "We have our boat," she sighed, looking a bit lost, "but…what's our destination?"</p><p>"Wherever the sword is, of course," I replied with a small snort. I thought it had been obvious that that was our intended destination, what with all the talk about the sword.</p><p>"Aye, we're as good as dead anyway," Jack agreed, putting his hands on his hips. "How much deader would we be if Cortes's missin' blade and the powers o' a god-king fell into the hands of Captain Torn Pants?"</p><p><em>"Torrents</em>," we corrected him. I was beginning to wonder if he was purposefully messing up the man's name out of spite.</p><p>Looking down at Arabella, I let out a quiet sigh. "You should get back in there, lass. It sounds like things have died down."</p><p>"I just hope that's the <em>only </em>thing that's died," she said, pushing some wet hair out of her face. "Remember: Three days from now at the cove, at dusk." Before waiting for either of us to nod, she hurried towards the back door of the tavern and disappeared back inside.</p><p>"Well, that was most interesting," Jack chirped. "Let's see that map, eh? I want to go inspect my—er, <em>our—</em>ship."</p><p>My brow rose. "Aren't you forgetting about something?"</p><p>His grin faded slightly. "…I don't know. Am I?"</p><p>"Your seabag? We haven't exactly gotten any closer to finding it."</p><p>His lips pursed in somewhat of a pout and a thoughtful expression replaced his joyful one. "How about this: I look for my bag while <em>you </em>go to the ship, hm?"</p><p>"That would be fine and dandy, <em>except </em>I'm the one with the map and you are not. How're you supposed to find the ship?" I crossed my arms over my chest. "Not to mention, Torrents is going to be looking all over this island for you."</p><p>He dismissively waved his hand at me—coincidentally, it happened to be the hand holding the candle, which was promptly extinguished. "I'm quite stealthy, remember? Also, I happen t' know you've got that journal o' yours along with some ink in your bag. You can copy the map into that, give me the one Miss Bossy Skirts made, an' we can meet up later."</p><p>My brow remained raised as I looked down at him. "What if something were to happen to you and I'm not around? You're unarmed."</p><p>"Ah, ah, ah—I've got a scabbard. A <em>magical </em>scabbard, at that." He wiggled brows.</p><p>"A lot of good that'll do you if that you get yourself into a scuffle. Unless its magic makes it indestructible—which I doubt, given all its scratches—it'll last only a few hits before breaking." A heavy sigh left my mouth; I knew that, despite my words, he was going to stick to his plan. "Here…" Leaning over, I tugged up the cuff of my trouser leg and unbuckled the dagger from my calf before tossing it over to him. "It's not very big, but it's <em>something</em> at least."</p><p>Catching the dagger, he looked it over. "I didn't know you had this on you…"</p><p>"That's the point of keeping it in tucked away in my boot." I sighed and shook my head. "Come on. Let's go find somewhere dry so I can copy this map."</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Barnacle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For those who don't read my hobbit fics, I just want to let you know that my upload schedule has changed! This story shall update the final Wednesday every month from now on.</p><p>Also, this is the longest chapter so far of this fic! And it's still not even half the length of one of the chapters from my hobbit fics xD</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three hours later found me walking along an abandoned trail towards Salty Cove. It was still raining, though not nearly as hard as it had been immediately after the barfight. Every inch of ground the rain could reach had been turned into mud. A week of uninterrupted sunshine would be needed to dry everything out again.</p><p>The path was easy enough to follow, though it was overgrown by tall grass in places. What made it perilous was that there wasn’t much light under the thick jungle canopy and, with the sun beginning to set, it was growing darker and darker by the minute. More than once, I nearly fell over thanks to stepping into an unseen pothole or slipping in the mud (though, that may have also partially been because I still had a bad case of sea legs).</p><p>‘Good thing I wear a lot of brown,’ I thought, feeling some mud splash up onto my lower thigh.</p><p>I finally stepped out of the jungle only to be greeted by the sight of a rather picturesque cove. Our ship, I saw, was moored beside a tiny dock and…well, it wasn’t a ship at all, if I’m being honest. It was a large, rather nice-looking fore-and-aft rigged fishing boat that was currently rocking back and forth in the somewhat-turbulent waters. As I drew nearer, I could see its name painted along the stern in garish white letters: <em>Barnacle.</em></p><p><em>“Barnacle</em>, huh?” I chuckled, my brow rising. “A strange name for a vessel, but here’s to hoping you’re as steadfast as a barnacle.”</p><p>Before going aboard, I went to the shack to see if anyone or anything was inside it. Like the boat, however, it was abandoned. It, though, seemed to be in fairly bad condition. The roof leaked horribly, leaving the dirt floor a mud pit, and the only bits of furniture—a single table and chair—were broken and waterlogged.</p><p>Luckily, the boat was in far better condition. In fact, it was in damn near perfect condition. The top deck was in neat order and in the sleeping quarters below, it was nice and dry—a great relief, given how absolutely soaked I was by that point. To my surprise, there were even hammocks stretched across some of the supports already. I grinned; being the first one there meant I got to have first pick of the hammocks.</p><p>“Wonder what happened here,” I muttered aloud. “Who just <em>leaves </em>a perfectly good boat like this?” Setting my seabag down, I opened it and pulled out my tinderbox so I could light a lantern. The candle inside looked like it had barely been touched by flame, making me even more curios.</p><p>Despite the oddness of it all, I wasn’t about to question it.</p><p>With a now-lit lantern in hand, I got a better look around at the sleeping quarters. I found that it doubled as a galley, with a small, cast iron stove sitting atop layer of bricks and, near the stove, a small bit of counter and a few cupboards. Curious, I went over to check to see if there was any fuel in it—there was. Most of it had already been burnt, but I soon saw a box of firewood sitting a few feet away.</p><p>“Time to get dry.” Gathering up a few logs, I knelt in front of the stove and built a fire in the stove. I was careful to not let any sparks or embers fly out while I knelt there, coaxing the flames to grow stronger. When I was convinced the fire wouldn’t go out, I shut the door and adjusted the vent holes.</p><p>Then, shrugging off my vest, I wrung it out in front of the stove, hoping the water would help further prevent any fires from happening. My shirt I would hold off on removing for now; even though I had the feeling Jack wouldn’t be making it to the boat that night, the last thing I wanted was for him to catch me in just my bindings and trousers. Laying my vest out on the floor beside the stove, I took off my boots and put them on the other side of the stove. When they were dry, I would clean off the mud that they were caked in.</p><p>“Too bad I don’t have any food,” I muttered. Shaking my head, I grabbed the lantern and went to go explore further back.</p><p>A boat this size wouldn’t have much more than a crew’s quarters and a hold, so I wasn’t at all surprised to find just that: The barren crew’s quarters and a nearly-empty hold. There were a few empty barrels back there, along with one barrel filled to the brim with rope and a locked chest. It was easy enough to pop the lock, though the effort wasn’t really worth it. Inside the chest were some rapiers and cutlasses; none of them were in good condition. In fact, most of them were dented and rusted in places.</p><p>“Probably the only things on this ship in bad condition.” I let the chest fall shut again before returning to the crew’s quarters. Seeing the state of the swords reminded me that I had to clean my own blade.</p><p>As such, I sat down on the floor, my back resting against one of the support pillars, and started to empty my seabag in search of my blade oil and the piece of scrap cloth I usually used to apply said oil. During my search, I pulled out my spare clothes (which I happily changed into) as well as my journal and writing kit. The flask of oil I found near to the bottom of the bag while the cloth was at the very bottom.</p><p>I was more than pleased to find that, despite the downpours I had carried it through, everything inside my seabag was perfectly dry.</p><p>It was strange, being on a boat all by myself. While there were still the typical boat noises—creaking wood, waves splashing, and rain pattering down onto the deck—it was otherwise silent. Most people would have found this eerie, I’m sure, as it would leave them feeling as if they were on some sort of ghost ship. I, on the other hand, found it quite peaceful.</p><p>I found it so peaceful, in fact, that the combination of the ship’s rocking and the rhythmic sloshing of the waves on the hull was enough to lull me into a trance-like state. My eyes drifted shut, though my hands continued to move about. There was a slight tug at what felt like the very center of my being and the corners of my lips twitched upwards into a smile; this was something I felt whenever I hadn’t been swimming for some days.</p><p>‘It’s too late to swim,’ I told myself. ‘Not only would it be impossible to see where I was going thanks to the darkness, but sharks hunt more at night…’</p><p>The tug grew stronger within me and I thought I could hear a faint whispering among the waves. ‘<em>Come home…come home to us…’ </em>it almost sounded like they were saying.</p><p>‘Tomorrow,’ I thought. ‘Tomorrow, no matter the weather, I’ll go for a swim.’</p><p>There was a clap of thunder outside and I could hear the rain beginning to fall harder on the deck. “Sounds like Torrents got pissed off again,” I muttered. “Better not have been Jack’s doing.” My eyes flicking open, I glanced over at the stairs; I had yet to close the hatch, so the sounds were even louder.</p><p>Sheathing my sword, I set it aside and made my way over to the stairs. Just as I reached the first step, the wind picked up and, with that came rough, choppy waters. The boat started to be tossed about as if it were a toy which made any sort of movement difficult to do.</p><p>I scurried up the stairs and, grabbing the handle of the hatch, pulled it shut. Almost instantly, the sound of the wind and rain was muted. The thunder, however, still seemed to be just as loud.</p><p>“I wonder what’s got him upset now?” Making my way back towards my belongings, I ended up swearing and toppling over as the boat rocked especially hard towards the portside. A groan of pain left my mouth as I laid there, my back aching. After a moment, I sat up.</p><p>“You need to calm down,” I scolded, as if the ocean could hear me. “There’s no need to be getting this violent.” I managed to get back to my feet and made my way back over to my belongings.</p><p>Another clap of thunder made me sigh as I climbed into the hammock. ‘Whatever magic he has thanks to that tattoo is fairly strong.’ I let my eyes fall shut once more. ‘This storm he’s made is a few miles wide at the very <em>least</em>. And given that it gets more intense when he’s upset…’</p><p>As I laid there, continuing to ponder the origin and extent of Captain Torrents’ magic, I began to drift off to sleep. My stomach tried to protest this, but I merely ignored it and rolled over onto my side. Thanks to being in the hammock, I had been unaware that, though it was still fiercely storming outside, the ship had become almost entirely still.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>‘Closer…Closer…just a little closer…’</p><p>As the fish drew nearer to me, I continued to remain as still as possible. It was a lovely, bright pink snapper with a yellow stripe down its side. From the looks of it, weighed about six or seven pounds. Just when it was about to get within my reach, though, it turned around and started to swim away.</p><p>‘Oh no you <em>don’t</em>,’ I thought, glaring at it. Having not eaten since very early the previous day, I was <em>not </em>going to let this meal get away. I willed the fish to come back towards me and, thanks to an abrupt change in the current, it practically swam right into my hands.</p><p>“Got you!” Grabbing its tail, I shoved it down into my spare shirt, which I had tied shut in order to temporarily turn it into a bag. The snapper struggled to get out of its confines, but it was thoroughly trapped. “At least you have a lobster to keep you company for now,” I mumbled. Though most people found lobster to be hardly fit for consumption, I rather enjoyed its flavor—not that I could get it too often.</p><p>Jack hadn’t shown up during the night, leaving me quite torn about whether I should head back into town to look for him or if I should stay here at the boat. After thinking on it for nearly an hour, I decided to put some trust in him and went for a swim in hopes of catching something for breakfast.</p><p>I started to swim back towards the <em>Barnacle</em>, which was a good three hundred yards away. Thankfully, the weather had improved overnight, leaving the ocean much calmer than it had been the previous day, though it was still raining. Diving beneath the waves, I scanned the reef and ocean floor for any decently sized oysters or clams while also keeping an eye out for any sharks.</p><p>When I came nearer to the shore, my brows furrowed; there was someone walking towards the shack and they were carrying a large sack. I couldn’t quite make out who it was, but I could tell it wasn’t Jack—they weren’t scrawny enough. Cautiously, I lowered myself a bit further into the water and started to swim more quietly.</p><p>The person disappeared into the shack and didn’t emerge again until I was almost to shore. I partially hid myself behind the boat, my eyes narrowing when I watched the door open up. A quiet sigh of relief left my mouth when I saw that it was Arabella; she wore a hooded cloak, but it evidently wasn’t of very good quality; her front was soaked and she had strands of wet hair sticking to her cheeks and forehead.</p><p>Resuming my swim, I made little effort to conceal myself while she walked along the dock. But either she was too focused on getting aboard the boat or I somehow blended in too well with the water, because she was wholly unaware of my presence. My head broke the surface of the water and, reaching up, I pulled myself onto the dock. “Fancy seeing you here, lass.”</p><p>She let out a small scream (which I stupidly did not anticipate on happening) and spun around, her eyes wide in fright. “Wh-wh-where did ye come from!?” she squeaked.</p><p>Gesturing out at the water, I gave her an apologetic smile. “I thought you would have seen me swimming over. Sorry about that.” Getting to my feet, I held my shirt-bag up and twisted it around a few times to get the majority of the water out of it; the snapper and the lobster didn’t like that at all and both started to thrash about.</p><p>“Is…Is Jack here as well?” she then asked, regaining some composure. She pushed some wet hair out of her face before straightening her posture.</p><p>“Not yet, no. But he’ll show up, I’m sure.” I then nodded at the ship. “Let’s get you below deck, eh? I’ve got a fire going in the stove already, so you’ll be able to get warm, if not dry off a bit.” I started to walk towards the boat, my shirt-bag dripping water alongside me.</p><p>“If Jack isn’t here with ye, then where is he?” Her brow rose and there was skepticism in her voice. “Don’t tell me Torrents got him.”</p><p>I shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t really know. We split up yesterday: He went looking for his bag—his <em>real </em>bag—while I came out here.” I walked across the gangplank and hopped down onto the deck.</p><p>Arabella started to make her way across as well, holding her arms out slightly to help keep her balance. “So what yer saying is that he may very well be dead and ye just don’t know it?” She took my hand as I offered it to her and stepped down onto the deck.</p><p>“While I hope that’s not the case, there is a small chance it could be.”</p><p>“Ye don’t seem awfully worried about him.” Her brow rose as she looked up at me.</p><p>“That’s because I’m very good at hiding my emotions,” I told her, walking over to the hatch that led down to the sleeping quarters. I opened it and motioned her to go down first. “Careful, the stairs are a bit steep.”</p><p>She nodded, lifting her skirts while stepping over the lip and down onto the stairs. “I’m to believe yer actually a worried mess on the inside then?” she questioned, her tone betraying her uncertainty.</p><p>“A worried <em>and </em>hungry mess, yes.” I started to follow her. “But, I trust him. If he says he’ll be here, then he’ll be here.” Given that I still hardly knew Jack, it was a fairly stupid thing of me to say because, for all I know, he wasn’t as trustworthy as he said he was. What choice did I have, though? “I take it you’re here because you were delivering supplies?”</p><p>“Yes. I brought a sack full o’ dried meats an’ hardtack.”</p><p>“I hope the bag they were in is more waterproof than your cloak.” I carried my shirt-bag over to the stove, where I already had a pot of salt water ready to be put on the heat.</p><p>A small pout came to her lips when she removed her cloak. “I’ll have ye know that the bag is very waterproof,” she told me, moving to hang her cloak on the damper. She then shook her head and held her hands out towards the body of the stove. “Tomorrow, I’ll bring some more food an’ the day after that, I’ll bring some water.”</p><p>“I can handle the water if you’d like.” Picking up the pot, I set it atop the stove. “There are a few barrels in the hold that are in fairly good condition I could use to store it.”</p><p>She nodded slowly. “That’d be greatly appreciated, given how heavy water can be.” I felt her watching me while I walked over to my belongings and crouched down. “Where are ye from?” she then asked.</p><p>“Holyhead.” Rummaging through my belongings again, I found my writing kit and opened it. A small ‘aha’ left my mouth and I grabbed my folding penknife; I needed it for cutting and gutting the snapper and lobster. There was no way I was doing such a menial task with my sword, after all.</p><p>“Where’s that at?”</p><p>“It’s a port city in Wales.” I closed up my kit and tucked it away again before standing upright. Turning to face her, I gave her a smile. “What about you?”</p><p>“Born an’ raised here in Tortuga,” she replied, sounding almost embarrassed by this information. “I’ve been helpin’ my folks out with the Bride ever since I could walk an’ talk…but, it’s most definitely time for a bit o’ a change. I don’t want to be a barmaid for the rest o’ my life.”</p><p>Nodding in understanding, I grabbed my shirt-bag and started to untie it. “That’s understandable. Especially after last night—though, that was mostly Jack’s fault.”</p><p>Her brow rose as she chuckled. “It was <em>completely </em>Jack’s fault.”</p><p>Raising a hand, I wiggled my index finger at her. “Not true. <em>I </em>was the distraction.” A cheeky grin came to my lips, making her laugh again.</p><p>“Well, some distraction ye were. He got caught.” She shook her head. “Why did ye let him do a stupid thing like that, by the way? I would think that ye, bein’ the older one, would have stopped him an’ came up with a different plan.”</p><p>“I wanted to, but in all honesty, he didn’t really give me time to come up with one.” Finally getting the damp cloth untied, I pulled out the snapper. It flopped weakly, making me feel a little bit bad for keeping it out of the water like this. “Give me just a tick lass; I need to go gut this.”</p><p>She nodded, staying put while I went to the top deck to clean the fish. When I came back down with a headless, finless, gutless, and mostly scaleless snapper, she was kneeling beside the stove, her skirts fanned out in front of her so they could dry.</p><p>“What made ye want to become a sailor?” she asked, her head tilted while continuing to watch me.</p><p>“The sea’s my blood,” I replied, setting the fish on the counter. Going over to the stove, I lifted the lid on the pot to find the water just barely beginning to simmer. “That, and I knew it would anger my stepfather’s spirit, should it still be wandering the earth.”</p><p>Her brows furrowed in confusion. “As far as I know, havin’ spirits mad at ye isn’t a very good thing. I take it the two o’ ye didn’t get along well?”</p><p>“To say the least.” Opening a cupboard, I started to root around for a frying pan and, on the off chance that there was some, a bit of oil or lard. “I’m the third of five children. My two eldest and my youngest half-sisters were his daughters while my second youngest sister and I were the results of our mum meeting a much nicer bloke.”</p><p>“Oh…so he hated ye because ye weren’t his child?”</p><p>“That and, once I realized he was never going to treat me with the same kindness he showed my sisters—including my second-youngest sister—I refused to behave for him.”</p><p>“But why did he treat yer sister alright and not ye?”</p><p>“Because I look so much like my blood father. I’m the one whose existence constantly reminded him of my mum’s infidelity. My sister, on the other hand, only inherited his eye color. She could be the spitting image of our mother otherwise.” Finding a frying pan, I set it on the counter before continuing to sort through the dishes. “The git would often remind me of just how much he disliked me. Constantly telling me I would amount to nothing, that I would never make a good marriage match, that I would die in alone and in poverty…and that was when he was in a <em>good </em>mood.”</p><p>“…I don’t want t’ think about what he would do t’ ye when he was in a <em>bad </em>mood, then,” she said with a frown.</p><p>“Let’s just say there’s a reason my nose is a bit crooked and it’s <em>not </em>because I was born with it that way.” My eyes suddenly lit up as I found a dark, ceramic pot hiding towards the back of the cupboard. There was cheesecloth tied around its top as a sort of lid and, as I pulled it towards me, I could smell nothing gross. Upon untying the twine and removing the cloth, I found a creamy-white brick inside: Lard.</p><p>A silence fell between us for a few minutes. I scooped some lard into the pan before taking it over to the stove to heat up. Glancing over at her, I watched her adjust her skirts slightly when they began to steam.</p><p>“You’re going to want to look into getting some trousers before we leave,” I gently cautioned.</p><p>Her brows furrowed. “Why? My dress should work well enough, given there’s no real rigging to climb or anything…”</p><p>“True as that may be, you’ll still want some trousers. Or at least some dark-colored bloomers or hose to wear under your dress.” I tucked some hair behind my ear, my eyes following the chunk of lard, its melting bottom making it slide all over the bottom of the pan. “In fact, you’ll want to make sure the trousers are dark colored, too.”</p><p>“Why’s that, then?”</p><p>“Just in case your cycle takes you by surprise.”</p><p>Her cheeks suddenly turned bright red and she stammered a few incoherent words. “Yer a bloke! Ye shouldn’t talk about such womanly things!” she finally managed to spit out.</p><p>My brow rose in a mixture of concern and amusement; I always forgot how little men were supposed to really know about women’s bodies. “I’m the only male among a family of sisters, remember?” With the lard now all melted, I held my hand over the pan. Despite the melted fat, it wasn’t hot enough for cooking just yet. “I know a lot of things about women that most men wouldn’t.”</p><p>Her cheeks remained flushed and she wore a bit of a pout. Crossing her arms, she then said, “Ah. Yes. Well…then I suppose that isn’t <em>too </em>bad.” A small, defeated sigh then left her mouth. “To be honest, I wholly forgot that my cycle was somethin’ I was going to have to take into account,” she admitted. “So…thank ye for reminding me.”</p><p>Nodding in acknowledgement, I carefully lifted the lid of the pot of water. I was met by a cloud of steam, but still no boiling. Replacing the lid, I went and grabbed a piece of firewood. “I figure it’s something you’ll want to think about, given that you’ll be sailing with two blokes.” Tossing the wood into the stove, I looked at her with a reassuring smile. “If you’d like, I could use some of the extra hammocks and section off part of the room so you can have a bit of privacy.”</p><p>“That would be nice,” she admitted. “Ye don’t have to, though—I can do it while I’m here.” She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “I’m surprised yer not tellin’ me that I should be dressin’ like a lad t’ ward off bad luck or somethin’.”</p><p>At that, I snorted. “Why should I be telling you to do something like that? Women <em>aren’t</em> bad luck on ships. I sailed over here on a ship captained by a woman as a matter of fact. And given that she’s middle aged, I’d say she’s had a fair bit of <em>good </em>luck over the years.”</p><p>Yes, I’m well aware of how ironic my words were, given that I was keeping my gender a secret. In my defense, I feel more like a man than a woman most of the time, anyway. And the times I <em>did </em>feel like a woman…well, I don’t exactly carry a corset and petticoats in my seabag, so trousers it was until I was back in Holyhead.</p><p>“Is she openly a woman, though?” Arabella asked, a bit of a skeptical look on her face.</p><p>“Aye. I’m sure there are other female captains who are open about their gender, but I don’t know of any off the top of my head.” Putting my hand over the frying pan, I found it to be hot enough for cooking now.</p><p>“Then why do some hide themselves and others don’t?”</p><p>I shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t know.” Going over to the counter, I plucked up the snapper. “There are a few reasons I can come up with, but it all depends on the lass, really.” My nose scrunched up slightly and I leaned back while I set the snapper in the pan. It started to sizzle quite loudly and I could feel tiny droplets of hot lard splashing up onto my hand. “Should have dried that off a wee bit better…” I muttered to myself.</p><p>“What would those reasons be?”</p><p>“Running away and not wanting to be recognized, not wanting to get assaulted, they feel more like a lad than they feel like a lass…I’m sure there are others, though.” I checked the pot of water again. It was <em>finally </em>boiling, so, leaving the lid off, I went to fetch the lobster; it had crawled out of my shirt and was a few feet away. I almost didn’t see it at first due to its dark color and the low lighting.</p><p>“Hm. I suppose those are good reasons.” Her tone was a bit off—almost as if she either didn’t believe me or hadn’t really listened to me.</p><p>I dropped the lobster into the boiling water before quickly putting the lid back on the pot. “You sound like you’re uncertain about something.”</p><p>Her cheeks turned a bit pink in embarrassment; evidently, she didn’t think I would notice her change in tone since I was busy. “It’s just…well, now that I know all o’ this, I’m not sure if I should disguise myself as a lad or not.”</p><p>“You don’t have to,” I told her, going over to the counter to grab a flipper. “Jack and I already know you’re a lass and if ever we came across anyone who tried to take advantage of that fact, well…there’s a reason I keep my sword sharp.” Returning to the stove, I poked at the fish a bit. Admittedly, I wasn’t very experienced with cooking—everything I knew came from having to help the cook on my uncle’s ship and, truthfully, that wasn’t very much.</p><p>I had, however, become quite the expert on peeling potatoes and gutting fish.</p><p>Going silent for a few minutes, Arabella sat there and continued to watch me cook. She let out a quiet sigh and looked around the sleeping quarters. “I know how t’ fight—er, rather, I know how t’ barroom brawl. I’m not very good with a sword, though. Don’t even own one, t’ be honest.”</p><p>“There’s a crate in the hold with some old swords in it,” I told her, slipping the flipper under the fish. My brows furrowed; the fish was not cooperating and remaining stuck to the pan. “They’re not the best quality, but they’re good enough that I could teach you if you’d like.”</p><p>Her eyes lit up a bit at this. “Really? That’d be greatly appreciated! Also, usually if the fish is stickin’ that bad despite the pan bein’ oiled, it means ye need t’ let it cook a bit longer.”</p><p>I nodded in understanding and set the flipper aside. “Thanks. As you can see, I’m not the best when it comes to cooking.”</p><p>“Neither am I, but I always hear my da’ scolding our cook whenever he messes up a wee bit.” She suddenly stood up, pushing her still-damp skirts back into place. “An’ speakin’ o’ my da’, I need to get back t’ the Bride. It’ll be dinner time soon an’ after last night, I don’t want t’ be leaving him all by his lonesome.”</p><p>“Alright. Be safe and don’t let yourself get sick from being out in this rain so much.”</p><p>She chuckled, her brow rising. “Says the one who was <em>swimmin’ </em>when I arrived.”</p><p>I gave her a handsome grin. “Like I said, the ocean’s my blood.”</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Fitzwilliam Dalton the Third…aka Fitzy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next two days passed in much the same manner as the first—except on day three, when I didn’t see Arabella until it started to grow dark. The rain had finally lessened to a light sprinkle, though the sky was still dark with rain-laden clouds.</p><p>“And yer <em>positive </em>Jack will make it in time?” Arabella stood beside me as we waited under the awning of the shack. She had her arms crossed over her chest as she impatiently paced back and forth. I had been pleased to see that she had taken my advice and was now wearing a pair of trousers under her skirt.</p><p>“I have no choice but to be positive,” I half-joked. To be honest, I was fairly worried for the lad. I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since the day of the fight. “He has my dagger and I really would like it back.”</p><p>She quietly laughed at that, her brow raised. “And what’ll we do if he <em>doesn’t </em>show up?”</p><p>I shrugged. “Go looking for his corpse and see if he had anything of worth on him.” A small laugh left my mouth when she lightly smacked my arm.</p><p>“That’s not funny!” Despite her words, she was trying to not giggle.</p><p>“And yet, there you stand, laughing,” I teased.</p><p>She would have replied to me, but we both heard loud rustling coming from the bushes. There was the sound of someone cursing and then Jack stepped out into the open air, a bag draped over his shoulder and my knife in his hand. He looked up and, upon seeing us, grinned broadly; it would have been an amusing expression if I hadn’t caught sight of some sort of injury on his cheek. Before I could ask him about it, however, he bowed low to the ground.</p><p>“My lady,” he said, flashing Arabella a cheeky grin. Then, spotting me, he stood upright, but the grin remained plastered on his face. “Drystan. As you can see, I have arrived. An’ now, let’s get aboard our vessel an’ sail off into the night., shall we?”</p><p>Arabella and I started to walk towards him. “Mister Sparrow! Where <em>have</em> ye been?” the former of us questioned. “Yer hours late!”</p><p>“And what happened to you?” I demanded, my brow raised. His sleeve was ripped and there was a dark splot on his trousers that looked suspiciously like blood.</p><p>He scratched his nose; I could tell it was a poor attempt at hiding his injury thanks to the trickle of blood rolling down his neck. “Oh, ah, a number of obstacles. Just flotsam and jetsam, really, though,” he said, trying to avoid the subject. “Nothing important, really. What <em>is </em>important, however, is that I am here <em>now </em>an’ we should really get onto the ship an’ weigh anchor.” His nose scrunched up when Arabella grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from his face, revealing a long, deep cut on his cheek. It stretched from the middle of his cheek down to almost the corner of his mouth.</p><p>She gasped. “Ye got into a fight!”</p><p>In reply, Jack unshouldered his bag and proudly held it up. “I’ve found my sack!” he declared, ignoring her statement. “An’, as unbelievable as it may be to hear, given that it was in such capable hands as my own, but the map was…er, <em>misplaced</em>.”</p><p>Arabella gave him a dry look. “Ye lost the map. How did ye lose the map? An’ how did ye even find this place without it?!” Her hands were on her hips now and her tone was quite scolding.</p><p>Jack held up his hand and wiggled his index finger. “There are any number o’ ways t’ reach one’s destination, my lady,” he told her. He then gestured out towards the <em>Barnacle</em>. “Now, the tide’s risin’ an’ we mustn’t waste time. Come along, lassie an’ Drystan!” He started to march off down the dock.</p><p>“Call me ‘lassie’ again, an’ ye’ll be drinkin’ up the tide,” Arabella grumbled, making me snort.</p><p>The two of us started to follow Jack, with me taking up the rear. I was about halfway down the dock when something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Looking towards the trailhead, I was just in time to see a <em>very</em> well-dressed young man place his foot upon a rock.</p><p>“Halt!” he called out, making Jack and Arabella stop in their tracks. Unlike the two of them, he was tall; from where I stood, I guessed him to be close in height to me. And, judging by the fine quality of his clothes, he was the son of an aristocrat. “I am coming with you.”</p><p>“Says who?” I called back, my brow raised.</p><p>“Says I,” he replied.</p><p>“Sorry, chap,” Jack called. “This boat is ready t’ sail and her crew—meanin’ me, Bell, an’ Drystan here—are <em>not </em>accepting new hands. Now shoo.” He made a shooing motion with his hands before turning to walk up the gangplank.</p><p>I kept my eye on the newcomer who clearly wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “I am Fitzwilliam P. Dalton the Third,” he said, beginning to walk towards us.</p><p>My brow rose; that name sounded familiar.</p><p>“I don’t care if you’re Pope Fitzdalton P. William the Seventh,” Jack grumbled. “I don’t know what you’re doin’ here or how you even found us, but we’re very busy sailors with very important things t’ do. So if you’ll excuse us…” Wearing a mocking smile, he pressed his hands together and gave Fitzwilliam a small bow, which was also mocking in nature. Then, turning on his heel, he continued up the gangplank.</p><p>“I discovered you thanks to this.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of cloth. I groaned and lightly smacked my forehead; it was the map Arabella had drawn for us. He unfolded it and, clearing his throat, started to read, “Meet Arabella and Drystan at this spot at dusk, commandeer boat, find Sword of Cortes, eliminate Captain Torniquet—”</p><p>“<em>Torrents</em>,” I muttered under my breath.</p><p>“—Acquire the perfect hat, become captain, rule entire Caribbean, live happily ever after,” he finished.</p><p>Arabella gave Jack a long look, her cheeks bright red in embarrassment. “Jack…”</p><p>Fitzwilliam chuckled, his brow rising as he stepped onto the dock, clasping his hands behind his back. “I suppose I haven’t arrived too late for the ‘hat’ part,” he said, coming closer.</p><p>I drew my sword and held its tip level with his throat. “Yes, yes, he has his life planned out, but so what? As you read, you’re not part of it,” I told him. Unconsciously, I stood a bit straighter so that I was at my full height. Inwardly, I smirked; I was a good two inches taller than him.</p><p>“Actually, I rather wish to become part of it—or, rather, to join you three and leave this island,” he replied. He didn’t seem at all disturbed by the fact that there was a sword mere inches from his throat.</p><p>“Why?” Arabella and I chorused. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing the lass walking towards us; I lowered my sword, but kept it drawn just in case. “Yer obviously wealthy an’ don’t have the need we do for treasure. A man in yer position can do anythin’ he wants—ye don’t have to <em>sneak </em>away from your family for adventure. At least, not the way I do, ye know.” She threw a small glare at Jack, clearly annoyed with him for having caused this situation to happen. “What with me bein’ a ‘lassie’ an’ all.”</p><p>“Au contraire, my lady,” Fitzwilliam said, giving her a proper, gentlemanly bow. “As the eldest son of the Earl of Dalton, I am bound to the same sort of family rules you are—perhaps even more so. We came from England less than a month ago, when my father decided to explain his holdings into the New World. Since then, I have been forced to do nothing but attend balls and cotillions of other English families.”</p><p>I rolled my eyes. “Oh, that sounds <em>so</em> very dreadful,” I grumbled. Attending the balls of the aristocracy could be quite boring at times, yes, but the hors d’oeuvres were usually worth the boredom.</p><p>My words seemed to annoy Fitzwilliam a bit. “You have <em>no </em>idea,” he retorted, some annoyance to his voice.</p><p>“Actually, I do,” I said, but he ignored me.</p><p>“Regardless,” he continued, “I am expected to pick from one of those fine English ladies my future wife and I must do such within the year. And, because of this, I am forbidden from entering the naval service or pursing any career other than what my father chooses for me.” His nose scrunched up ever so slightly. “Which is, namely, continuing the family Dalton which, in turn, means chaperoned walks with stupid rich girls, dinners with—”</p><p>I snorted loudly, interrupting him. It was one thing to complain about living a nobleman’s life, but to complain and insult the women who would be forced to court him? “Those ‘stupid rich girls’ don’t want to be on those chaperoned walks just as much as you do,” I told him, “nor are they stupid. In many cases, they’re just as well educated as you ‘stupid’ rich men, if not more so.”</p><p>He tensed slightly at my words and I could see the annoyance on his face. “I wouldn’t expect a common sailor such as yourself to know just how truly tedious the life of a nobleman is,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice calm. “Therefore, I do not hold your words in contempt.”</p><p>My brow rose. I <em>so </em>badly wanted to introduce myself with my proper title (at least, the male version of my title), but I resisted. Something told me this brat would be joining us, no matter what happened and I wanted to mess with his mind by displaying bits of <em>accurate</em> knowledge in regards to nobility at random. So, instead, I sheathed my sword and said, “Nobleman, commoner—hell, you could be a god for all I care—but it doesn’t matter. You don’t get to insult women just because you don’t like being put into boring situations with them.”</p><p>“Oh, look! You’ve gone an’ made my first an’ best mate angry at you,” Jack chirped. His voice was getting closer, so I figured he was walking over to us. “Now it’s even more obvious how bad o’ an idea it is for you t’ come with us. The high seas are no place for a wellborn fop such as yourself. So run along now, Fitzy. Buh-bye.”</p><p>I frowned slightly as Arabella suddenly turned me around and, grabbing the shoulder of my vest, pulled me down to be more level with her and Jack. “Oh, come on, lads. He might be useful,” she whispered to us. “He can afford supplies when we’ve run out. An’ don’t ye think it’d be handy t’ have another pair of strong arms aboard?”</p><p>“You seem to be man enough for the job,” Jack stated. It was hard to tell if he meant it as a compliment or as sarcasm.</p><p>“Thanks…I think?” Arabella murmured.</p><p>Fitzwilliam cleared his throat, making all three of us look back at him. “It matters not,” he said. “I <em>am </em>coming with you.”</p><p>“No. You’re. Not.” Jack had his hands on his hips as he glared up at the fop.</p><p>A silence that was both awkward and tense fell upon the four of us. The only sounds that could be heard were the waves, the rain, and the creaking of the <em>Barnacle</em> as she rocked from side to side.</p><p>“I challenge you to a duel, then,” Fitzy finally stated. “I win, you let me come with you. I lose, I leave and tell no one what I’ve seen or anything of your plans.”</p><p>“I accept,” I grumbled, reaching for my sword.</p><p>He held up his hand and wiggled his finger scoldingly at me. “My challenge was to <em>Jack</em>, not you.”</p><p>A mocking smile came to Jack’s lips. “Oh, Fitzy, I would just <em>love </em>to,” he began, “but, as it happens, I’ve yet t’ acquire the sword I <em>really </em>want. No sword, no duel, an’ certainly no boarding the ship for you. So sorry, mate.”</p><p>Arabella perked with mischief. “Oh, that’s no problem! There’s a chest with some old rapiers below deck. Just a tick!”</p><p>Jack quietly groaned as Arabella ran off. “I’d like t’ use Drystan here as my second,” he stated.</p><p>“Very well,” Fitzy said, seeming more amused than anything. “Though, I’m surprised your second—Tristan, you said his name was?”</p><p>“Emil <em>Drystan</em>,” I corrected.</p><p>“I shall be sure to remember that,” he said. “I’m surprised you’re not loaning him your sword to use.”</p><p>I crossed my arms over my chest, sighing. “Code duello states that the weapons used by the dueling gentleman are of equal kinds—in this case, rapiers. My sword, however, is a cutlass and, therefore, prohibited.”</p><p>Fitzy’s brows furrowed somewhat. “You…know of the code duello?”</p><p>Before I could answer, however, Arabella returned. “Here ye go, Jack!” she chirped, tossing him the sword.</p><p>He caught it, still grumbling. “Thanks…” I winced as he drew the sword; the sound alone spoke of how poor a weapon it was as there was no oil in its scabbard, leaving it to grow rusty. “Let’s do this on the beach…not enough room here on the dock.”</p><p>The four of us walked off the dock and the two lads went out onto the beach while Arabella and I stood under the awning once again. We watched as Fitzy drew his sword before saluting Jack in the proper fashion. Jack, however, made a sound of discontent.</p><p>And then the duel started. Though…It wasn’t much of a duel, if I’m honest. Fitzy’s form was perfect and the movement of his sword was as smooth as silk. Jack, on the other hand, had been taught to fight in the pirate fashion. As such, he was energetically moving around, lunging forward before jumping backwards and then leaping onto a rock or driftwood in order to escape Fitzy’s blade.</p><p>“This is going t’ be a massacre, isn’t it?” Arabella sighed.</p><p>Crossing my arms, I leaned against the wall of the shack. “It certainly looks like it. From what I can tell, Jack knows how to fight—just not good enough to go against someone who’s had years of strict tutelage from a sword master.”</p><p>“…Did ye have a sword master?”</p><p>“No. My father taught me.” I winced when I saw Jack throw himself backwards and tumbling out of the way of a blow. “And it’s over.”</p><p>“How do ye—Oh.”</p><p>Fitzy had the point of his sword to Jack’s neck. I can only imagine he told him to yield, given that Jack wasn’t howling in pain, nor was he dead. He held his hand out to help Jack up, but the latter simply swatted his hand away before jumping to his feet. The pair came back over to us, a smug smirk on Fitzy’s lips and a defeated frown on Jack’s.</p><p>“Well, then I suppose we’re a team now,” Arabella said, holding her hand out towards Fitzy.</p><p>He stared at her hand in a mixture of uncertainty and confusion; I could tell he was used to kissing the backs of women’s hands, not shaking them. After a few seconds, however, he reached out and took her hand.</p><p>A broad grin suddenly spread across Jack’s face and he clapped his hand over top theirs. “To adventure!” Jack toasted. He seemed to have changed his tune rather quickly…</p><p>Not wanting to be left out, I clapped my hand over the underside of theirs. “To adventure,” I grinned.</p><p>“To adventure!” Arabella chirped.</p><p>“Yes, to adventure,” Fitzy said, his voice far more serious than ours.</p><p>Putting his free hand on his hip, Jack then proclaimed, “An’, o’ course, t’ treasure an’ freedom!”</p>
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